


Hannibal: Silence

by ChangeTheCircumstances



Series: Hannibal: The Continuation [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins Movies), Hannibal Lecter Tetralogy - Thomas Harris
Genre: Cannibalism, Gen, Hannibal Season 4, M/M, Murder Family, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Silence of the Lambs fitted into the Hannibal TV universe, Violence, dark!Will, honestly it's Hannibal what more can you expect?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:18:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChangeTheCircumstances/pseuds/ChangeTheCircumstances
Summary: When Buffalo Bill's reign of terror begins, Crawford sends Clarice Starling to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane in the hopes Will Graham will use his empathy to save lives once more. However, as Clarice gains help from Graham questions of why he is helping her, what exactly happened to him, and where exactly Hannibal is begins to rise.





	1. Animalia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been playing with this idea in my head for a while and finally decided to start writing it down. Thank you to anyone reading it and comments are greatly appreciated.
> 
> I also made some cover art for this too with the idea of Nichole Beharie playing Clarice Starling.
> 
> Please enjoy <3

                                                 

_“Are you sure of this? I hate to think of you behind bars again.”_

_A smile, devious and real. It had taken far to long for such smiles to be given with a full heart. He hated thinking about how long it would be until he saw it again._

_“And I would hate to see you there. But Jack is more likely to humor me. Besides, it’ll be easier for me to play him.” Another smile, a light touch. “Don’t worry, it will work out.”_

_“I still won’t stop looking. The moment I succeed I will come for you.”_

_“Unless I beat you.”_

_A chuckle, a brush of lips._

_“Don’t worry. We’ll be a family soon enough.”_

* * *

 

“Starling! Crawford wants you in his office. Stat!”

Clarice nodded and broke into a run again. She cut through the rest of the course and headed into the building, not bothering to change out of her sweat drenched sweater. The instructor had sounded urgent and like everyone there, she knew not to take a demand from the Guru lightly. Ardelia gave her a curious look on the way by but Clarice only managed a quick nod of acknowledgement.

She walked into an elevator full of other trainees and agents and as they rose, more and more got off until it was just her. Clarice walked off and alone. She had been in the Behavioral Science Department twice before but never by herself and she just barely recalled where Crawford’s office was.

Looking around, someone finally seemed to take notice of her. “Looking for Crawford? He’s out for now. You can wait in his office.”

“Thanks,” Clarice murmured, walking off and towards the already open door.

Inside, her eyes roamed to the cork board. Newspaper clippings and pictures. Her eyes fell on the titles only briefly. She had already read versions of them on news sites and TV channels. It was basically all the same after all. A killer on the loose and a nation terrified.

Her eyes began to draw closer to the pictures. Some looked like they had been cut out of family photos. Others were clearly from a crime scene photographer but before she could get a closer look Crawford finally arrived.

“Starling, thank you for seeing me. Please, sit.” As she did, there wasn’t a chance to ask more as Crawford began stating her credentials. “Bachelor’s in psychology and criminology, interned at Avera Health and…” He went on for a moment longer, adding where she had graduated as well. “…one of the top trainees of your class. You’re currently working towards a Master’s Degree in psychology as well. Your thesis is on Hannibal Lecter, isn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question despite the phrasing. Still, from the look on the man’s face, Clarice felt she should answer anyways. “Yes sir.”

“It’s a rather daunting task. It must be hard to come up with anything original what with the amount of papers already published on him…and by him,” Crawford said as he finally leaned away from the files on the desk. He looked tired, a little cross, but decidedly not at her.

Clarice breathed a little easier and replied, “On the contrary sir, I think very little has been written about him. At least on what really matters.”

“And what do you think matters?”

“That he’s not a psychopath or a monster and nothing really made him. He just is.”

Crawford frowned and looked as if he’d heard the phrasing before which had Clarice mirroring his facial expression. She had read practically everything on Dr. Lecter and she had never found a paper that proposed that idea. However, before she could ask Crawford about that, he continued on. “What have you read on Will Graham?”

“Likely all there is, which isn’t much sir,” Clarice responded. “Unlike Lecter, Graham has never been willing to talk to others and probably the most informative articles were from _TattleCrime_.”

She could tell Crawford knew of the website from his face. “What do you think of it?”

“That it’s crass and Ms. Lounds has little respect for boundaries. Still, there is some truth in it.”

Crawford gave a little harrumph at that but he didn’t argue. Clarice was sure that they both knew the specific articles she was thinking of. However, she didn’t bring it up, knowing that they had probably talked more on the subject than he would have liked.

“Probably. But I haven’t asked you here to dredge up the past,” sighed Crawford. “We’re doing a survey with current serial killers to try and update our psychological profile of them. Graham’s the last one.”

Clarice wondered if that was a proper definition for Graham. Unlike Lecter, no one really had any idea of how many people he had killed outside the line of duty, which was really only Garrett Jacob Hobbs, and then the murder that had led the police to Graham (though many assumed he hadn’t killed the victim alone). Nevertheless, the only words he had spoken in court upon his capture had been chilling enough.

She didn’t bring those words or her thoughts up, knowing Crawford was likely very aware of that.

However, she did comment on one fact that made her uncertain over the request. “Since he was incarcerated and charged last year, he hasn’t exactly cooperated. What makes you think he will now?”

“Nothing really. But we have to at least have it on paper that we tried,” Crawford murmured. “At the very least, simply observe how he looks, what he’s doing, if there’s anything he’s reading, things like that. I want you out to Baltimore immediately and I want your report on my desk the following morning.”

“Understood sir.”

“In that case, here are the files and the temporary badge you’ll need to get in,” Crawford said. She took them and stood up but paused at the warning look he gave her. “Be careful Starling. The only person better at getting under someone’s skin is Lecter.”

“Of course sir,” she replied. She started to turn and walk away but her eyes caught the bulletin board again. A thought crossed her mind as she recalled Graham’s gift of empathy. “Does this have anything to do with—”

“No Starling. Now please, I do need that report.”

“Yes, sorry sir,” Starling replied as she finally turned to leave. Walking out the door, she nearly went straight first into two men in white coats.

Instead of apologizing, the younger turned to the older one and muttered, “I told you that you needed to go to the optometrist. You’ve got cataracts.”

“Yes and you’ve grown a tail.”

“You’re gonna be blind.”

“Not if alcohol poisoning doesn’t get me first.”

“That is true.”

Clarice finally managed a hurried apology and went on her way. She headed back to the dorms she was staying in so she could grab a quick shower and finally change. As she showered, she thought back to Graham’s case. After his assumed death, along with Lecter, half a year had passed with seemingly no word from either.

Then Dr. Du Maurier had shown up with her own leg cooked and partially eaten on the table. She hadn’t been able to recall anything that had happened but no one doubted Lecter had been there. Many believed Lecter was alive after that but it wasn’t until sometime that Graham’s survival was confirmed as well.

It had started with a horrid murder in Washington State. Though it hadn’t immediately caused anyone to think of Lecter or Graham, a poorly forgotten hotel key card had led detectives straight to the latter. He had gone down without a fight, not a word said. Police had torn the hotel apart and had stuck around for weeks before one thing had become clear though.

Hannibal Lecter had left Will Graham behind.

The trial had been covered nationwide, coming in third to Lecter’s own trial and then the coverage of the supposed deaths of Lecter and Graham at the hands of the Red Dragon.

Despite the attempts for the death penalty, the well-off lawyer that Will had somehow been able to provide had succeeded in the insanity plea. Of course, that was somewhat made easier by the fact that Graham had only said one thing during his incarceration and the trial.

The prosecution had asked, “Why kill Loraine Johnson? What did it gain?”

Enough time had passed that the people there had figured Graham would retain his silence. Instead, as the lawyer had turned away, he had suddenly spoken up. “Chianti goes well with finger foods. She had nice fingers. That was all that was really nice about her.”

Clarice couldn’t help but shiver at the thought, wondering whose words they had been, Lecter’s or Graham’s. There were those that thought Lecter had brainwashed him like he had his former therapist Bedelia Du Maurier while others simply believed Graham had fully gone over the deep end when he’d fallen off that cliff.

With the thought of Lecter and Graham crashing into the water, not knowing if they’d survive or not, Clarice finally shut off the shower. She stood there for a second, watching the water drip off her body. What were they like, coming from the ocean? Would it have been mesmerizing, watching the salt of the sea and blood mix? Or would the wounds and fall have caused even Hannibal the Cannibal to crawl?

Clarice finally walked out of the shower and dried off, quickly getting dressed. As she walked into the room, she saw that her roommate had already come back.

“Hey, you off somewhere?” asked Ardelia with a smirk.

“Baltimore’s hospital for the criminally insane.”

“I always knew you liked the crazy ones.”

Clarice snorted and shook her head at her friend.

“Seriously though, where are you headed?”

“Baltimore, like I said. The Guru just needs someone to do some leg work.”

Ardelia frowned. “You know that’s where they keep Graham the…you know I don’t think anyone’s come up with a catchy title for him yet.”

“That’s probably a good thing. I’d rather not slip up and call him something demeaning.”

“Wait, so Crawford is actually sending you after him!?”

“It’s just a survey.”

Ardelia shook her head. “He’s a cannibalistic serial killer!”

“Technically serial killers have to kill at least three people to be categorized as such.”

“So what? Killing another serial killer doesn’t count? There’s Hobbs, the Red Dragon, and now this victim. And you know they pumped his stomach right? They proved he ate her and not in the fun way.”

“Yes, I know,” sighed Clarice. “And Hobbs doesn’t count. That was in self defense.”

“Whatever. He’s still a cannibal and you know they’re pretty sure that he helped Lecter cook up Dr. Du Maurier too. And those are only the times we know about! I can’t believe you’re being sent in after him.”

“It’s just a simple survey,” Clarice muttered with a shake of her head. “It won’t take long and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’ll make arrangements for your funeral then.”

“Thanks Mapp.”

“Anything for you Starling.”

She simply rolled her eyes before taking a glance at her phone. “I really do need to get going if I want to finish this in time. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright, yeah. Just stay safe,” her friend said, the teasing tone finally gone.

Clarice smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon.”

With that, she grabbed her car keys and everything she needed. She headed out to her car and got ready for the little more than an hour drive. As she drove, she shuffled through the radio, most of it just commercials or simply comments on Buffalo Bill. Finally she changed the input to her iPod.

The Cure’s _The Same Deep Water As You_ began to play as the blue sky flashed by on the road towards Baltimore.


	2. Arthropoda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for those who have been reading this! Sadly, chapters won't usually be this close together but I had time and decided to write some more.
> 
> I've planned this out properly too and it should be about twelve chapters.
> 
> As for the titles for each chapter, because the episodes of the Red Dragon part of Season 3 were quotes from William Blake's poem, I figured I'd try to relate these titles to the Silence of the Lambs. Because of that, the chapter titles are the scientific classification for the Death's-head hawkmoth (and yes, I know that in the book it's actually the Black Witch moth that Gumb breeds but the one for the movie is creepier looking in my mind so I'm going with that).
> 
> Anyways, thanks again for reading and please enjoy :)

Will Graham’s eyes left the wall to look through his bars at the movement beyond.

“Hello Barney.”

“Hello Mr. Graham. How are you today?”

Will smiled. He had told Barney repeatedly that his first name was just fine but the man was adamant when it came to respect. Will could have easily faked his own politeness but he found that Barney was the only one he really enjoyed seeing. In fact, he was the only one he really interacted with at all. Barney Matthews was a rare being, particularly for someone who worked in such a place.

Kind and courteous, everything he did was out of the goodness of his heart, something which even extended to prisoners. Will had walked through the hospital in Barney’s body on occasion, a way to free himself and to further confirm Barney’s personality.

The man of course wasn’t perfect. His marriage had gone sourer, he got lonely when at home and had few friends, but he had turned that sadness into fuel for his work. It was impressive. Few could do such a thing.

“Is there going to be a visitor?” asked Will, eyeing the chair Barney was setting down.

“Yes Mr. Graham. Should be here in a little less than an hour now.”

“Do you know who?”

“No Mr. Graham. Just that they’re from the FBI.”

Will nodded, not allowing his glee to show. Finally, it was happening. “Thank you Barney. I suppose I’ll see you at lunch then.”

“Yes Mr. Graham,” Barney smiled before turning away and heading out of sight.

Will let out a soft sigh and leaned his head back. It was all so predictable.

Now the real challenge would come as he battled with Jack, played along, and finally found a way to drag out the information he needed. Will smiled at the thought of finally getting out from behind the bars.

* * *

 

Clarice arrived at the hospital around eleven o’clock and was greeted by an orderly. She was led into the office of a Dr. Canton. As the woman spoke briefly with her, Clarice was reminded that both Dr. Chilton and Dr. Bloom had left the place, Chilton after his injuries and Bloom after Lecter had escaped.

After some formalities, another orderly guided her out of the office and to Graham’s cell.

“My name is Barney Matthews ma’am. I’ll brief you on the proper procedures when talking to Mr. Graham. Now, you may hand him the things you brought but place them on the slot for the food tray, not through the bars. Mr. Graham knows he’s not supposed to approach until you’ve already backed off. Other than the allowed objects, don’t hand him anything else and don’t accept anything. And keep to the right as you walk down. I’ve set a chair out for you and I’ll be outside the hall if you need me. We have security cameras watching.”

Finally they arrived at the door Barney would leave her at.

“Don’t worry ma’am, you’ll do fine.”

Clarice smiled and nodded her thanks. Taking a deep breath, she walked through the door before it automatically shut behind her. She kept her eyes strained forward, avoiding the imprisoned men on her left. At least she tried.

Some were quieter but a few mad ramblings threatened to drag Clarice’s concentration away. The one that succeeded was the sound of a man hissing out, “I can smell your cunt,” as he banged against the bars. Her eyes moved to him as he continued to make obscene noises but she managed to keep her body moving to the last cell.

It looked like any of the other cells with Graham calmly lying out on his bed. She didn’t notice any objects in it besides his person leading her to focus on his face. Not much passed over it but a small twitch of his jaw.

“Mr. Graham, my name is Clarice Starling. I’m with the FBI.”

Graham’s eyes slowly traveled over her before settling on her eyes. His were a bright blue yet no warmth lay there. It was difficult to say but Clarice was fairly certain he was irritated.

“Your credentials?”

She held them out and finally Graham stood up. He approached and leaned forward.

“Closer.”

Clarice did so but only slightly. The bars were likely to close together for him to reach her but still…

Her eyes flickered back to his at the sudden laugh. It was soft and quite as Graham shook his head. “Another one Jack? I can’t believe you…well no. I shouldn’t say that. Of course you sent her.”

Clarice flipped her badge closed and sat down. She started to take out the papers she had brought in a small briefcase but paused at Graham’s next words.

“That expires soon. You’re not real FBI. Wanna know what happened last time Jack sent someone who wasn’t real FBI out into the field?” asked Graham.

“You happened,” Clarice replied evenly.

Graham chuckled again. “Yes, I suppose that’s true. But I would be more careful blindly accepting a favor from Jack Crawford. The last trainee he sent out was held hostage for two years and lost an arm.”

“Miriam Lass. I’m familiar with the Chesapeake Ripper and your case,” Clarice replied.

“Are you now?” Graham scoffed. “Don’t tell me you’re a groupie.” He turned around to go back to his bed.

“No sir. I’m writing my thesis on Dr. Lecter.”

Graham paused at that and instead of sitting down, he came back to the bars.

“And what do you think makes Hannibal?”

The man seemed genuinely curious and Clarice decided if she wished to keep Graham talking she had to humor him some. “Dr. Lecter displays many of the characteristics of a psychopath but I wouldn’t classify him as such. Likewise, simply calling him a monster is unprofessional and doesn’t give way to any understanding. Nevertheless, it’s my theory that, no matter what happened in his past, he just is.”

Graham’s lips had slightly parted, his head cocked to the side. His eyes had an almost faraway look, clearly on something else before they focused back on her.

“You’re ambitious Clarice,” he murmured. “So was Miriam.”

“Are you suggesting I’ll end up on Dr. Lecter’s dinner table with my thinking?”

“He didn’t eat Miriam. And on the contrary, I think Hannibal would find you fascinating,” murmured Graham. He looked her over again and his face seemed to soften. “You’re an orphan like her…like him.”

Clarice shivered a bit as his words. She had contemplated whether Graham would use his empathy to understand her but she hadn’t expected how skin crawling the sensation would be. She focused on his words though and asked, “Like who?”

“Hannibal,” Graham replied.

Clarice didn’t ask who the ‘her’ was. She felt that Graham wouldn’t divulge that one. Instead, she focused on Dr. Lecter. “I didn’t know that.”

“Of course you didn’t. Hannibal’s past is very well hidden.”

“When did he lose his parents?”

Graham smirked at that. “Trying to gather information for your thesis? I’m not surprised. But no, if you wish to have that conversation, you’ll have to talk to Hannibal.”

“Then I won’t hold my breath,” Clarice responded. “Now, as to why I am here, I was wondering if you could take a survey—”

“Oh Jack you complete…asshole!” Graham yelled. “That’s how this started and now you…” He shook his head again and then seemed to remember he wasn’t alone. Clarice had thankfully managed to keep herself composed. She at least knew that he couldn’t get to her and his anger was directed elsewhere. “I’m sorry, Clarice. Jack and I have…a complicated past.”

“Apology accepted,” Clarice replied, forcing herself to breathe evenly. “But it—”

“You’re ambitious and clever,” Graham interrupted. “Don’t waste it on this…crap.”

He looked ready to end the conversation, heading back to his bed but stopped again. Clarice couldn’t see his face but she understood he was thinking deeply about something. He spoke slowly, his words carefully chosen.

“If Jack won’t come…find Miss Moffet. Look inside yourself and find Miss Moffet.”

“Mr. Graham I don’t understand,” Clarice said.

“Spelled m-o-f-f-e-t. Look inside yourself,” Graham simply repeated as he lay back down and closed his eyes.

Clarice quickly wrote it down and looked up again, waiting for Graham to say more. However, his mouth stayed shut and Clarice finally got up, pushing the papers and everything else into the briefcase. She turned and started to walk back.

The prisoner that had been making the most noise before was now curled up on his bunk, his head nearer to the cell. He was moaning and crying out and Clarice caught something that sounded a lot like ‘bit my wrists’. She took a step forward, almost involuntarily—

“I got you! Ha ha! I got you!”

Clarice closed her mouth as quickly as she had dropped it open in shock. She was frozen, cum stuck in her hair as the prisoner started to laugh even louder. The others were excited by it. Some simply screaming, other saying specific things either at her or the prisoner.

Clarice forced herself to put one foot in front of the other as shuddering breaths escaped her nose. The moment she was outside the hall, the orderly with the nice smile was there with paper towels as he gently guided her to a restroom.

She was still shaken up, her mind rattled as she managed a small thank you.

Graham’s speech had momentarily made Clarice forget where she was. The prisoner, Miggs she thought someone had shouted, had been a sudden and shocking reminder of the people she had been around. She continued to force herself to breath easily as she left. Just get to her car, get to her car and she would be fine.

However, she didn’t get that chance of solitude as a woman with bright red hair suddenly stepped into her path. Clarice started to go around her but the woman’s hand quickly grabbed her. Clarice flinched from the touch, one hand curling into a fist automatically, as her eyes finally looked at the face.

“Ms. Lounds.”

“Mrs. now actually. And your name?”

“I really must get going,” Clarice managed, breaking the grip on her arm. However, Lounds stepped in front of her again.

“Tell me, what is the FBI’s new interest in Will Graham?”

Clarice was to shaken up to try and lie. She couldn’t help the shock that colored her face. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Now, what kind of journalist would I be if I gave away my sources so easily?” smirked Lounds.

Clarice simply shook her head and started to move forward again. When Lounds tried to step in front of her, she pushed past but Lounds simply matched her pace.

“Will Graham has been in prison for nearly a year now with little to no cooperation. Why approach him now? Does this have anything to do with Buffalo Bill? Is the FBI really so desperate to reach out to another killer for help _again_? What does Jack Crawford have to say on this?”

Finally she was at her car and Clarice coldly managed, “No comment,” before getting into the car and quickly pulling out, only partially watching out for Lounds.

It was only once she was out on the road again that she realized she didn’t feel any need to shake or cry anymore. It seemed Lounds’ irritable hounding had at least directed Clarice’s emotions into anger which she now got out by speeding just a little too fast.

She forced her foot to lay off the gas pedal a little bit as she turned that energy to something a bit more productive, like how the hell Lounds could have found out so fast and what the hell had Graham’s cryptic message meant. At least she wouldn’t be bored on her drive back.

* * *

 

It was hard for Will to believe that Jack had actually sent Clarice after him with a survey of all things. His want to understand Will’s brain was what had led to him calling upon Hannibal in the first place. Will chuckled at that, suddenly realizing the irony in Jack’s attempts at keeping Will away from Hannibal.

It was only because of Jack that Will had even met the man!

Apparently Jack had done some good in the end.

With another chuckle, his eyes turned to the noise of the familiar food cart. As Barney came into view, he waited patiently as the food tray was placed in the slot. Once he was back the necessary distance, Will walked over and took it.

“It was Miggs that got her, correct?” asked Will. Since he was the last person on that hall to receive food, Barney paused and leaned a little on the now empty trolley.

“Agent Starling? Yes, thankfully she wasn’t harmed. Just a little shaken up.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Will said with a small nod. He moved to sit on his bed as Barney turned to leave.

As he ate, he used his thoughts to take him away from the horrid food and the walls around him.

It had been lucky he’d spoken with his “lawyer” fairly recently. The fact that the FBI would need help on this one, even if Jack hadn’t come right out and said it, and that Hannibal had been able to give him information of his own would make it even harder for Jack to ignore the lead. Of course, Will had been tempted to send the trainee back to Jack like a warning. If he wanted something from Will, then he better come himself.

However, she had interested him. Clarice did remind him some of Miriam though clearly with a different background. Will was pretty sure she was from some backwater town. And then seeing someone, so young and clearly ambitious, his mind had fallen to Abigail and Will had decided to help her instead.

If she was smart enough, she would be able to use this opportunity to further herself in the FBI and Will would be able to use her to get to Jack and what he was really after.

With that in mind, an idea suddenly came to Will. As he listened to the mad mutterings of Miggs, Will knew that he had been a model enough prisoner that he would have a good chance at success. It would also gain Jack’s attention which he needed right now. Jack was trying to ignore him but Will would make sure he did everything so that he remained in Jack’s mind constantly in the coming days.

Besides, he wouldn’t lose any sleep over the act. In fact, he might gain some extra shut eye. Along with being a serial rapist and killer, Miggs’ snores were horrendous and often kept Will awake for hours.

In other words, it was a win-win solution.


	3. Insecta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention that the reference to Mrs. Lounds instead of Ms. is because in the book Red Dragon Lounds had a girlfriend Wendy and I am still peeved we never got to see her in any of the adaptions (also more married lesbians is always good).
> 
> Anyways, a big thank you again to anyone reading this and for the comments and kudos, it means a lot. Enjoy <3

It was later that night after his ‘shower’ that Will found his opportunity. With hair still slightly damp, Will was lead by two guards on either side, hands cuffed together. Thanks to his good behavior and apparently docile nature, he didn’t have any cuffs on his feet meaning he would have more mobility for what he was about to do. Even better was the fact that as they passed Miggs’ cell, the man’s face was already at the bars, hooting and hollering.

Thankful that Barney wasn’t on duty at the moment, Will suddenly hit the man on his right in the gut and got the one on the left in the head. He had to hit him three times in quick succession to keep him on the ground and made sure to kick the other’s throat to deter him from getting up either.

Then with his right hand over his left and extended as far as the cuffs would allow, Will reached through and grabbed Miggs’ head. He could hear the automatic door opening down at the other end of the corridor but he still had time. With a forceful pull, Will dragged Miggs’ head through the narrow bars, flesh ripped back from the force.

As Miggs screamed and tried to wiggle himself free, orderlies started to rush down the hall but it was already too late. Will simultaneously jumped and pulled himself up the bars before throwing all his weight and power into his right elbow. It connected with the base of Miggs’ skull and resulted in a sickening crunch. Miggs’ head was forced downwards as his ears and cheeks were pulled from his flesh.

Blood dripped down the bars as Will calmly went to his knees and then laid on his hands and stomach, attempting to appear as unthreatening as possible (a difficult task considering what he had just done). He had also beat up the two other guards, though they would live, so he wasn’t too surprised by the feelings of batons hitting him in his back and once against his head. Nor was he surprised in getting roughly turned around and being hit some more. He reacted as little as possible, knowing that trying to fight them off wouldn’t help the situation.

He felt the prick of a needle and as the sedative took place, Will allowed himself a small smile as his body fully relaxed against the floor.

* * *

 

Clarice had immediately gone about writing up her report once getting back. Afterwards, she didn’t get a chance to think more on all that Graham had said as she quickly went to two classes in quick succession. Dinner was a swift affair as well as she spent the time studying rather than going out with a friend.

The first moment Clarice had a chance to really breathe was when she finally got back to the dorms. She looked forward to finally getting to sleep but Ardelia came in before she got the chance.

“Alright, glad to know I can cancel the funeral,” Ardelia said, going to sit on Clarice’s bed before the other could protest. “So, did he comply?”

“What do you think?”

“Probably no, right?”

“Yes,” sighed Clarice as she rubbed her eyes and sat next to her friend.

Ardelia nudged her shoulder with a curious look. “You alright? He didn’t try to come at you through the bars or anything?”

“Not him.”

Clarice watched as Ardelia’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Shit! You didn’t get hurt did you?”

“Nothing permanent,” Clarice replied as she leaned back and against the wall. “I suppose just my pride.”

“Well, we won’t talk about it then. But what about Graham? What was he like?”

Clarice shook her head as she avoided the probing eyes. Though she would have preferred talking of something entirely different for the moment, Clarice knew that Ardelia’s curiosity wouldn’t just disappear. Better to get it over with sooner than later. “He was polite enough though he didn’t seem very interested in my presence. He didn’t…I honestly didn’t ever feel threatened by him. Even when he got angry it was obvious that it wasn’t directed towards me. It seemed like he had expected someone else.”

“Huh, what do you think is wrong with him? Psychologically speaking? Do you think its brainwashing?” asked Ardelia.

“Do you?”

“Honestly, I don’t even think Du Maurier was brainwashed. It was just too convenient but that’s me.”

Clarice nodded her agreement.

“Maybe Stockholm syndrome? I mean, technically Lecter never kidnapped him but still…”

“No, that’s not quite right,” Clarice sighed. “I wish there were more papers on him but with what we know, I would honestly just say that the Will Graham that once worked alongside the FBI was a different one from the one I met. I’m sure there’s some overlap but the personality has changed significantly.”

“Well, clearly not for the better judging by where he’s stuck now,” sighed Ardelia. “Anything else happen?”

“His words got a bit weird at the end. He said to look inside myself and find Miss Moffet, whatever the hell that means,” sighed Clarice.

“Maybe it’s like an anagram or something,” Ardelia suggested, “or just crazy talk.”

“Maybe,” Clarice muttered. “Either way, I’m to tired to think about it.”

“Shit, you were trying to go to bed weren’t you? Sorry Clarice. I’ll bother you tomorrow.”

Clarice snorted. “You never bother me Ardelia.”

“You’re smart but you’re not a good liar,” she laughed. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Sounds good,” smiled Clarice as Ardelia went over to her side of the room and Clarice was finally able to get under the covers.

She slept soundly and the next morning was spent with last minute studying and then taking a test. During lunch, she spoke with Ardelia some more as they both tried to figure out what exactly the cryptic words could mean. Their discussion went with Clarice into the next two classes as her mind remained elsewhere and she found herself being reprimanded more than once.

Nevertheless, the words wouldn’t leave Clarice so easily. After classes, she ended up at a coffee shop nearby, going through what she could about Will Graham and the words ‘yourself’ and ‘Miss Moffet’. Hopefully a change of scenery would prove useful.

However, after a good hour and a half of browsing the internet, nothing came up. She tried other people connected to Graham like Dr. Lecter and Bloom and even tried the names of places like Wolf Trap, Virginia in the hopes that something would come up but there was nothing.

Next to her laptop was a notepad with so much scribbling that it was practically indecipherable. She had already mixed and matched the letters a hundred times over and had even put them through different ciphers but so far nothing comprehensible. Just more gibberish.

It was infuriating.

Technically she still had the badge and it didn’t expire for another week. She could just go back and demand an answer from Graham but the chances that he’d actually humor her were slim to none. And there was no point in driving all the way to Baltimore just for—

Baltimore! Of course, why hadn’t she thought of that? Clarice focused back on her screen with a new intensity as something of substance actually came up. It was still a long shot but she didn’t hesitate to call the number of a ‘Your Self’ storing facility in Baltimore. Thankfully the one who answered didn’t need much persuading and answered right away that yes, there was a unit owned by a Miss Moffet.

Suddenly full of energy, Clarice told the man she would need to meet there right away. Thankfully he agreed and after hanging up she went about shoving everything into her bag. She rushed to her car and quickly put the address of the storage facility into her phone and started on the road to Baltimore.

About ten minutes passed of Clarice silently pondering what it could all mean when her phone rang.

“Starling, it’s Agent Crawford. I just finished looking over your report,” Crawford said.

“I hope it was adequate sir,” Clarice quickly said.

“More than that. But because of what happened, I feel it is necessary to mention Miggs’ death.”

Clarice froze at that, barely keeping herself focused on the road ahead of her. “How?”

“Will Graham managed to break away from the orderlies and snapped his neck,” Crawford sighed.

Snapped his neck? But Graham hadn’t caused any trouble since getting there! Even his arrest had gone completely smoothly. He hadn’t harmed a single person while in jail and yet now…

“Starling?”

“Sorry sir. I just don’t know how to feel about this.”

“You don’t have to feel anything. Graham probably did it for some reason we’re simply not aware of. Speaking of which, I also wanted to discuss these words he said near the end.”

“I actually think I know what they mean sir,” Clarice replied. She quickly explained what she had gone through and ended with where she was headed at the moment. “The owner already gave me permission to look around so it’s perfectly legal.”

“Did Graham say something to suggest this place might be important and not just some random goose-chase?” asked Crawford.

“No, but the idea that they were just mad ramblings didn’t seem right. He may be insane by the law’s standards but he’s not crazy. If that makes sense. The words have to mean something and this is all that I was able to find.”

“And may I ask why you didn’t inform me of this right away.”

Clarice winced at that and the change of tone in his voice. She recalled that the last trainee that had gone out on her own under Crawford had been Miriam Lass. “Your department is stretched thin as it is sir and, though I don’t think it a goose-chase, probably better for a trainee to waste her time and not a whole department. Correct?”

“It’s an excuse,” grumbled Crawford, “but a pretty damn good one considering I put you on the spot. Give me the address Starling and text me when you get there. If nothing is found, I expect you to confirm it with me within the hour or else I’ll have the whole of the FBI on your ass.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Clarice smiled and replied, “Understood sir.” She gave him the address and the name of the manager.

Crawford made a gruff response before adding, “Be safe Starling,” and hung up.

Clarice turned her phone back to the GPS then. She was about halfway there and it was already dark. Hopefully the owner wouldn’t be to peeved at the late time.

It was nearly eleven by the time Clarice arrived at the front of ‘Your Self’, the owner already waiting. After a brief exchange, he got in his own car and they drove to the unit owned by a Miss Moffet. He explained how no one had been in or out since 2003 as he tried to get the door open but it stuck before getting even a foot off the ground.

With the help of a jack, Clarice managed to get the door open just a bit more. As she started to move underneath, she gave a card with Crawford’s number to the owner before finally going into the unit, the metal catching the skin on her left leg.

Pushing herself off the ground, Clarice went to the flashlight app on her phone. The beam swept across the tightly packed room of trinkets and furniture and clothes. Slowly, she moved around the area, trying to keep as much undisturbed as possible. She wasn’t sure what she would find there but at least knew one thing as she carefully looked under a red cloth.

She wasn’t expecting to find a head.

* * *

 

Will had woken a little while ago and had managed an invigoratingly dull conversation with the chief doctor.

“I don’t understand the issue. Miggs was never getting out of here. At best, he was a nuisance and at worst, a serial rapist and killer. His therapy wasn’t going anywhere,” Will had sighed.

“Well, clearly neither is yours.”

Will had laughed at that. It was hard not to. Will imagined Hannibal would have appreciated the dry wit.

Now he was stuck in a straight jacket for a combined time of 48 hours. His breakfast and dinner had been revoked that day and the same went for the day after along with only two times in the whole forty-eight hours to relieve himself.

Still, it had been worth it to finally have some peace and quiet.

Now as Will rested, strapped to the bed, he allowed his mind to wonder elsewhere. It was not difficult to distract himself. It was the only way to remain sane in such a place.

He drew himself back to the fall in that moment, a time when he hadn’t known if he’d survive or not. Technically, Will liked to think he hadn’t. His heart had stopped after all.

It had turned out sea water hadn’t mixed well with the wounds and, among other things, an infection in a rather nasty place had led to a horrendous fever. He could recall making it out of the water, Hannibal and he supporting each other. They had made it to some boat house that _of course_ Hannibal already had in place when everything had changed to fleeting images and fevered hallucinations.

When his mind had finally broken through the haze, Will had never felt freer. It would have been poetic to see Hannibal’s face first after his rebirth but he’d seen Chiyoh instead. He’d still been a little high off of pain meds because the first words had been a hysterical giggle and, “Did you shoot me again?”

Chiyoh had rolled her eyes, her face unreadable as she had replied, “Hannibal is out getting supplies.”

“How?” Will had slurred. “His face is all over the news.”

“The garden,” Chiyoh had answered.

It was then that Will had finally noticed the change in scenery, that they were no longer in the boathouse but somewhere else, likely Chiyoh’s doing.

Will’s mind moved through those long and audacious first months, gathering his strength back as the wounds healed. Hannibal hadn’t been in much better shape and yet he had managed to get Will out of there, to stitch him up and keep him from bleeding to death. He’d even brought him back during the worst moments of the fever, managing to keep Will’s heart going.

He supposed that was his poetic justice.

His mind continued to wander; going to the day that he was finally allowed out of bed and able to explore the sanctuary. Come to find out, the spacious but mostly empty home had been in a secluded part of Montana. In a way, it made sense to hide out in Jack’s backyard. After Hannibal’s trip with Bedelia, Jack probably thought they had headed off to Florence or some other place that was more akin to Hannibal’s tastes. Neither had been up for long distance travel however.

Now Will let his mind focus on that first image of Hannibal after the fever had left him. Hannibal had walked in and though he had carried a rather blank expression, the mask was gone. Will saw Hannibal; he understood him. It was more complex than good and bad, couldn’t be so easily broken down like that.

But it didn’t matter if Will couldn’t voice his thoughts or make others understand. He did. And that was what mattered.

Even more wonderful was how Hannibal’s lips had slipped into a small smile, a show of utter relief at seeing him awake. However, Will had only been able to focus on Hannibal’s face for so long. Eventually, his eyes had fallen to the _plaid_ shirt and _ratty_ jeans and Will had found himself laughing so hard he had ripped the stitches in his cheek and opened up the wound all over again.

Will smiled at the memory, as his skin pulled around the scar and he fell asleep.


	4. Lepidoptera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you again for the kudos and comments! I'm so happy knowing people are enjoying this <3 Thank you for still reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Clarice blinked her eyes rapidly to try and keep herself awake. It was now a little over one in the morning as the FBI went about securing the scene. She felt sorry for the old man that had been questioned a hundred times over now but only a little. She was too busy feeling sorry for herself as she explained what happened to the Guru again.

“Why this? What the hell does Will think he’s playing at?” growled out Crawford. He seemed to be more involved with some conversation in his head than actually talking to her.

“Sir, may I request to see Mr. Graham again?” Clarice quickly asked. Upon Crawford’s narrowed gaze, she added, “We’ve just been going around in circles. Now, whatever happened to that man in there, Graham clearly knows something or else he wouldn’t have directed it to us.”

“Not us,” muttered Crawford. He rubbed at his face, eyes falling to the flashing lights and police tape. Something crossed his mind, to fast for Clarice to question his odd choice of words. “Go and figure out what the hell he knows. I expect a report immediately regardless of the time.”

“Yes sir,” Clarice replied.

Walking off, she went under the police line and headed towards her car which she previously had to move for the other cops and FBI. The moment she was on the other side though, she was assaulted by the color red.

“Clarice Starling isn’t it? We didn’t exactly have time to be properly introduced before.”

How the hell could Lounds have figured out her name? How the hell did she know to come here at god damn one fifteen in the god damn morning?

“I really don’t have time Mrs. Lounds,” Clarice muttered as she tried to quicken her step and get around.

However, it seemed Lounds’ ability to take subtle hints was nonexistent. “Tell me Agent Starling, is Jack grooming you to be what Miriam Lass failed to be? Or perhaps you’re to be the new Will Graham?”

“Mrs. Lounds, I would like to remind you that I am my own person,” hissed Clarice as she spun at her, “and the only think I’m being _groomed_ into is a damn good FBI agent.”

Lounds had the audacity to chuckle at that. “Strong words. In that case, any statement on what game Graham’s playing with the FBI?”

“Good night, Mrs. Lounds,” Clarice muttered as she forced herself away from the woman and managed to get into her car. This time she was only slightly kinder in avoiding Lounds seeing as there were a number of police there too.

Then she was rushing across the city, managing to cut a forty-minute drive into twenty-five as she arrived at the hospital. When she rushed out, she was thankful that the orderly from before was waiting. Crawford must have had the foresight to call ahead of time.

“Right this way Agent Starling. I’ve already got him awake,” Barney said.

“Thank you,” Clarice replied as she was rushed into the hospital.

The lights of the hall were far dimmer than last time and most of the inmates were either asleep or trying to. The only cell light that was completely on was the one at the far end.

Clarice’s heels clicked against the ground as her eyes just barely caught Miggs’ still empty cell. It was to dark to tell but the black splotches on the bars had her nearly stumbling. She quickly righted herself as she stepped in front of Graham’s cell, her eyes widening in shock at the sight.

Graham’s hair was a bit tousled and the yawn that escaped his lips clearly showed he’d just woken up. Someone had situated him so that he was sitting up straight as well. “Clarice, I suppose you got my message then.” At her silence he gave her a crooked, boyish smile. “Don’t worry, it’s a temporary thing. Punishment for Miggs.”

“Ah.”

“Please, sit. I know they haven’t given you a chair but its awkward having you just stand there. I would hand you a towel too but…well…”

Clarice touched her hair, not having even realized it was wet to begin with. She began to sit near the bars, legs crossed. Now that she thought about it, she was drenched. How long had she been standing their talking to Crawford?

“So, did you find Hannibal’s surprise?”

“Hannibal’s?” she asked with a frown.

“Well I certainly didn’t put him there. I wasn’t even living in Wolf Trap nor anywhere near Baltimore at the time.”

“So Dr. Lecter killed him.”

“I didn’t say that,” murmured Graham.

“But Lecter knew him,” Clarice replied. “He must have to put him there. A patient, right? And Dr. Lecter had to hide him away so that police and media attention wouldn’t turn to him or his crimes so far.”

“Exactly,” Graham said. He smiled, seeming proud of her deduction.

“So then who is he? Who killed him?”

“His name was Benjamin Raspail,” replied Graham. “As to who killed him, I technically don’t know. I believe the papers have a name for him though.”

Clarice’s eyes widened. “But the killing of Raspail is nothing like Buffalo Bill.”

“Raspail was simply the beginning. The act of a fledgling killer. It’s been years now. He’s been evolving since then,” Graham replied.

“What else?”

“That was all Hannibal provided me,” smiled Graham.

“You didn’t meet Dr. Lecter until 2013 though. Why would he tell you this?”

Graham cocked his head to the side as if trying to think up a reason before he chuckled and murmured, “Of course, Jack never put that on record.” Then louder, he added, “I helped Hannibal destroy his files. There were some patients that stuck with me.”

“That was…that was years before the Red Dragon,” murmured Clarice.

“Nearly four in fact,” Graham replied.

“Agent Crawford had lost that battle long ago.” The words were mostly for herself. It was difficult to believe that the Guru had even brought Graham back to begin with, knowing the inevitable of what would happen when Dr. Lecter and Graham were brought back together.

“Jack cares about quantity,” Graham suddenly said, as if reading her thoughts. “It will do you good to remember that.”

“Quantity of life,” murmured Clarice.

Graham nodded.

“Then what exactly is this? Why tell me all that you know?”

“Because I haven’t told you all,” murmured Graham. “Simply most. And because I can help you catch him.”

“But you won’t.”

“Not yet,” Graham replied.

“Because you want something,” sighed Clarice. “What? A window, larger cell—”

“I want to meet with Jack,” Graham interrupted. “There’s…something I need to discuss with him. Something private. Should he agree, then I will help you catch Buffalo Bill.”

“And if Agent Crawford doesn’t comply?”

Graham smiled. “Remember Clarice, quantity.”

“You’re going to ask for a trade of lives,” Clarice murmured.

“You don’t sound surprised. Or disgusted for that matter.”

“He’s not going to stop. He’s only been escalating since the first one,” replied Clarice.

“I’m glad to see you follow,” he said.

“But you won’t give me more.”

“Not right now.”

“Last girl he took only has a day left,” she replied.

“Then Jack better hurry.”

“You used to save lives,” murmured Clarice.

“That was circumstantial. It wasn’t why I did it.”

“No.” Clarice pushed herself off the ground with a sigh. “You did it because it was as close as you could get to normal while simultaneously denying what you are.”

“Would you call me normal?” asked Graham, his eyes curious and waiting.

“Not by society’s standards,” she said, “but perhaps by your own.”

Graham smiled again. “Hannibal would love to meet you. Don’t worry though, I won’t give him a home address. Not that you really have anyone to worry about.”

Clarice shivered. She hadn’t said a thing about her past, about her family, her father, and yet she could see that Graham somehow knew. Stilling her heart, Clarice murmured, “I’ll speak to Agent Crawford Mr. Graham.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “Good night Clarice.”

“Good night Mr. Graham.”

With that, Clarice left the hospital and hurried through the pouring rain to her car. It was already getting close to three but she doubted Crawford would be asleep. She would do the report but decided that Crawford would want the information as quickly as possible. With that in mind, she called him up and quickly explained what Graham had told her.

“What kind of deal?”

“He wouldn’t say. Said it was private, just between the two of you sir,” Clarice replied.

“Hmm, we’ll see after we can confirm he’s telling the truth on this and not just dragging us along,” Crawford said. “Finish that report Starling and then get some sleep. You did good work.”

“Thank you sir,” Clarice replied, hanging up as she turned her eyes to the road and the long drive ahead of her.

* * *

 

Will imagined that if Barney hadn’t been on duty, nobody would have come to lay him back down and he would have been forced in that awkward, upright position for the rest of the night.

Thankfully, the man was there and as Will’s back finally rested against the bed, he asked, “What do you think of Miggs’ death Barney?”

“You shouldn’t have done it Mr. Graham. He was a patient after all. We were trying to help him.”

Will’s lips quirked up and into a smile. “I’m sure you’re fairly happy about not having to clean his cell anymore though.”

“Routine checks will be easier,” Barney agreed. “You sleep well Mr. Graham.”

“You too Barney,” Will replied.

A few moments later, the lights were out and Will was thrust into darkness again. Something he had noted was he didn’t dream anymore. His sleep was dark and deep and Will no longer had nightmares plaguing his mind. Even with Molly he had dreamed. Some good, others leading to night terrors. But now he didn’t and the idea of sleep appealed to Will in a way it never had.

Before he allowed the darkness to take him though, Will moved from his cell in Baltimore to that large house in Montana.

He stood in the living room, a fire burning low over the coals as Chiyoh cleaned her gun.

“You can sleep you know,” Will said. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one’s going to come in and surprise us.”

“Actually, we’re in your mind,” Chiyoh replied. “I’m simply doing what you’d expect of me.”

Will chuckled at that. No longer did he need to worry about what was real and what wasn’t. His mind was hyperaware of that. No longer did he worry about when he was awake or asleep.

Now he could slip into the fantasies without agonizing over reality falling apart.

Will walked from the living room and up the stairs. The smells were so much nicer than that of the prison. Full of pine and earth and cool crisp air. If there were dogs, it would have reminded him of Molly and Josh and his home with them, maybe even a little of Wolf Trap.

Suddenly Winston crossed his path, smiling and happy. Of course, he hadn’t been there in reality but in Will’s mind he could do whatever he wanted. “Hey boy, how are you?” murmured Will as he knelt down to scratch the dog behind the ears.

When he stood up and continued walking around the balcony, Winston happily followed him along. He walked to one of the doors and went into the master bedroom where Hannibal sat, typing away at a computer.

“So, where are you planning to go this time?” asked Will with a grin. It may have been his fantasy but that didn’t mean he knew every little detail. Winston went and settled on a doggy bed off to the side as Will climbed in.

“Peru at the moment.”

“Really? I would have thought somewhere in the Caribbean if we were going south.”

“Perhaps it is you who is more interested in going to such a place, rather than me,” Hannibal replied. He closed the laptop and set it to the side.

“So even in my mind you try and psychoanalyze me,” chuckled Will. “I see how it is.”

Hannibal only smiled in response, slipping beneath the covers as Will rolled over and wrapped an arm around him.

“Peru would be nice,” Will murmured. “We’d find somewhere secluded but within driving distance of some city, some ancient ruins…”

“Is that what you want for our family Will?” asked Hannibal.

“I’m not sure what I want,” Will replied. “That’s probably why you’ve come up with different ideas every time I come here.”

“Very true.”

“I just want us together, again.”

“We will. Uncle Jack will comply to your request. We may have to do some of our own detective work but we’ll be together soon,” Hannibal assured him.

Will smiled at the thought, tightening his grip around the other.

“Do you think it is easier to see me as your voice of reason and not yourself?”

Will snorted, “Go to sleep Hannibal.”

“I only do what you expect of me,” he chuckled in response.

“Well in that case I _expect_ you to go to sleep,” Will said. The lights suddenly went out as if on command and Will succumbed to the darkness.


	5. Sphingidae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Will in this chapter but don't worry, he'll be showing up again soon :)
> 
> Also, for anyone who reads these little notes, I'm thinking of adapting Hannibal Rising into the Fullerverse as well and was curious if anyone would be interested in reading that too.
> 
> Anyways, a huge thank you again for those reading this and leaving comments and kudos! It means a lot <3

Clarice got home at around four forty-five in the morning. She didn’t actually go to bed until six after she finished the report and sent it to Crawford. Ardelia was already up by then but thankfully all she said was, “Get some sleep girl. You look like the walking dead.”

Clarice was only to happy to obey. She’d be missing some classes but there wasn’t really any point in going if she fell asleep at her desk.

Besides, Ardelia would take any notes she needed.

She didn’t dream though as what should have been a restful sleep was interrupted four hours later by her phone ringing. “Starling,” she managed as she cleared the sleep from her voice.

“I need you at the air pad stat.”

“Agent Crawford?”

“Yes, they just found the sixth body and I need you there now.”

Finally Clarice jumped into action. “Right away sir,” she said as she jumped out of bed and threw on some clothes. She started to mess with her hair but then decided to hell with it. Gathering up anything she might need in her small briefcase, she hurried out of the dorms and to the air pad. A helicopter was waiting with Crawford holding the door open. Clarice ran forward and Crawford followed after her.

Handing her a set of headphones, he put on his own and ordered the pilot up.

“Starling, this is Jimmy Price,” Crawford said, gesturing to the man who sat opposite her. She remembered him as one of the two guys she’d run into at Crawford’s office.

“Agent Price,” Clarice said as she shook his hand.

“Jimmy is fine,” he replied with a large smile.

That was it for the pleasantries though as Crawford quickly went into detail about the girl found. He handed around photos that must have been taken by the police.

“They’ve got her at the local funeral home. I’m hoping to get you there before the local police disturb more than they already have.”

“Sir, may I ask why I’m here?” questioned Clarice.

“I need warm bodies Starling and you’re already involved with this and somewhat familiar with the case,” Crawford simply said.

“And what about Graham’s proposal?”

“Well, we did prove the head belongs to Raspail thanks to dental records,” Jimmy put in. “We haven’t found anything else though and it’s doubtful we ever will if Lecter really put him there.”

Of course. The Chesapeake Ripper never left any evidence.

Clarice looked to Crawford again, still waiting for his answer.

“Haven’t decided yet,” replied Crawford.

She had to bite her lip to keep herself from responding not to kindly. She understood that after the event with Lecter, partnering with a killer again probably wouldn’t look to good on the Behavioral Unit’s record. However, they only had two choices in catching Buffalo Bill and that was getting smart or lucky.

Either way, more girls would die before the man was brought to justice.

However, she held her tongue and focused on reading the details of the case file. Upon arriving, a cop car was already waiting to take them to the funeral home.

Clarice remained silent for most of it after introductions were made. Instead, she mainly listened to the questions Crawford and Jimmy posed to the officers and watched the small town pass by in flashes. It reminded her of home and she found her throat involuntarily closing up.

She managed to clear it without drawing attention and they were soon at the funeral home. They briefly met with a room of other cops but it couldn’t exactly be called pleasantries judging by the sheriff’s tone. As Crawford took the man off to a different room, probably to try and settle a territorial dispute, Clarice tried to make herself busy. Despite the fact that they clearly weren’t welcomed there, Jimmy seemed perfectly fine chatting up one of the cops nearby.

Clarice wasn’t so forth going though and she found her eyes drawing near to a door that led into a small service room. People were milling about in there, an event going on. She walked closer to the cracked door but as her feet stopped, her mind kept going. She pushed past the people, her entire being feeling numb and empty.

Each step took her closer until she was staring down into the coffin, at her father. His suffering over the past few weeks had been for nothing. He had died anyways.

“Hey, you alright kid?”

She started at the hand on her shoulder. “I’m thirty,” she blurted out. It was the first thing that came to mind. Jimmy chuckled but before she could seem embarrassed, he kept on talking.

“Alright, not a kid. Still, it almost seems like you haven’t been around death that much.”

“Not…exactly.”

Understanding passed Jimmy’s face as he glanced through the crack at the service on the other side. He didn’t apologize or make a big deal out of it though which Clarice was thankful for. He simply asked, “Are you from around here?”

“Not here specifically. But a small town like this.”

Jimmy nodded, understanding the connection that she had made. Instead of dwelling on it though, he asked, “So you’ve been talking with Will?”

“You didn’t know,” murmured Clarice, taking in Jimmy’s expression. She guessed the man hadn’t seen Graham since his incarceration. “Have you…have you thought of talking to him?”

“Not really,” murmured Jimmy. He glanced away before asking, “What’s he like?”

“You knew him. You _worked_ with him.”

“We weren’t friends,” chuckled Jimmy, only this time it didn’t sound as full. “We did go out for drinks a few times. Had dinner once…the four of us…he’s not that Will anymore though.”

Clarice remembered that they’d lost an investigator in the case, that not all had been as lucky as Miriam Lass. She felt compelled to say something. “Whatever Graham is I’m sure…I’m sure he never wanted that to happen.”

“So you think you understand Will,” snorted Jimmy. His tone wasn’t patronizing though. Just sad. “Well at least in this case, you’re probably right. He didn’t show it, not like the rest of us, certainly not like Brian, but Bev’s death really hurt him. She…she was Will’s friend.” He rubbed at his eyes, the chipper look falling away. “I can’t see him. I just…I have thought about it, and it’s not like I really blame him, probably blame myself more so, but he’s…he fucking forgave Hannibal and I don’t understand how.”

He was babbling now and Clarice realized that for all this to so easily come out, he must not have had anyone to really vent to in the past few years.

“And Brian would probably rip my throat out knowing I went near him. I haven’t even really talked about this to Brian. I can’t ‘cause he just gets that fucking broken face and the last time we even got close to it he just started sobbing and I can’t do that to him. Not again. But then Will I…Bev had a lot but there were few she really held close and sometimes I wonder…I wonder if somehow seeing him could make me feel closer to Bev but that’s ridiculous.”

Clarice imagined walking up to an autopsy table with Ardelia on it. She imagined being forced to open her up and catalog all her organs. She imagined being the mortician prepping her father.

“And Hannibal’s still out there and we’re probably never going to catch him and Bev will never be avenged and even worst she would hate seeing Will in that god damn hospital, hated seeing it the first time. And sometimes there are still days when I think she’s around. It’s been years but I’ll start to say something out of habit and every time Brian hears it that broken look falls on his face again. And you know it was us. Always us. The science trio that Jack called upon, always trusted, always went out on the fucked up, crazy crimes together. The trio that got wasted together and partied and-shit. I don’t know what I’m talking about.” Jimmy finally stopped and rubbed his wet eyes. “You don’t need to hear all this and I sure as hell don’t know why I just dropped all this on you. It was wrong of me.”

Clarice took his hand though, moving purely on instinct. He jolted at the contact but that only made Clarice hold on tighter.

“Don’t,” she simply said. “Don’t ever feel sorry for letting lose once in a while. You seem nice. I’d hate for you to hurt yourself and just bottle all that up instead.”

Jimmy smiled at her, fuller than before. “Still doesn’t mean it was professional.”

“I’m not even real FBI,” chuckled Clarice, “so who’s counting?”

This time Jimmy managed a good, full laugh. “In that case, thank you Agent Starling. I don’t think I’ve ranted about that since…well since forever.”

“Please, if I’m to call you Jimmy then you will do me the same honor.”

“Alright, thank you Clarice.”

“Something I should know about?”

Crawford’s voice quickly reminded Clarice that they had just had that conversation in not just a public space but a room full of cops at that. Most were talking in their own groups but _still_.

Jimmy raised their still entwined hands though and gave a goofy grin. “Thinking about eloping. Care to be the minister Jack?”

Clarice couldn’t help the snort that escaped her and Crawford simply rolled his eyes. “Well it better be after you examine the body. Come on, this way.”

They finally let go and followed Jack away from the crowd. The room that they went into had a few more cops but Crawford’s intimidating presence got everyone out fairly quickly. The only other person was the local mortician who mostly stayed out of the way as they unzipped the body bag and revealed the girl.

Clarice took a shallow breath. She was dead. There was nothing they could do for her. However, maybe her body would help them save the next.

With that in mind, she pulled out a recorder and started taking note of the lacerations, the bruises, and everything else. Jimmy took pictures of everything before picking at the scalped areas and seeing if anything of substance had gotten stuck in them.

“Alright, help me turn her over,” Jimmy said after working on her back for a moment.

Clarice did so, managing to distance herself so that she didn’t shiver at the touch of cold flesh. After turning her over, they continued through the pattern they had done before but Jimmy paused after taking one picture.

“Clarice, come here.”

She walked over and looked at the picture.

“I’m not seeing things, am I?”

“Definitely not. Something’s in her throat.”

Jimmy set the camera to the side and picked up some pliers. Crawford leaned forward as Jimmy asked, “Hold her mouth open for me.”

Clarice did so as Jimmy managed to get the pliers down and into her throat.

“What the hell is that?” muttered Crawford.

“Not a seedpod, is it?” asked Clarice.

Jimmy shook his head, a small smirk on his lips. “Told you Brian should have come. He’s going to have a field day with this. It’s a cocoon of some kind. Here, grab a container.”

As she safely put it away, she asked, “Someone had to shove it in there. Right?”

“Yep, meaning it’s a little present from our Buffalo Bill.”

They quickly went about finishing the autopsy but nothing else of interest was found. After documenting everything, they went to the area the body had been found but nothing of importance had been documented by the local police. Now done in the area, they took a car back to Quantico, Clarice in the back with Jimmy and Crawford in shotgun. Clarice imagined the man hadn’t slept in the past twenty-four hours, judging by how he dozed off for part of the ride.

Clarice spoke with Jimmy a bit on the case and they theorized what the sections of skins taken could mean. However, neither really had an epiphany and they eventually turned to silence and their own thoughts. A little while later, Crawford woke up with a grumble and Jimmy joked about him needing his beauty sleep if he didn’t want to end up a wrinkled potato.

A bit more teasing actually went back and forth and it was interesting seeing Crawford a little more relaxed. That feeling only existed for a short time though as he let out a mournful sigh and said, “I want you two to meet with Brian once we get back. Figure out what kind of bug that is and if there’s some type of significance to it. I’m going to see Will.”

Jimmy stilled next to her. “You sure that’s wise?”

“We got a lot of dead girls on our hands,” sighed Crawford. “I don’t need anymore.”

Jimmy remained silent but Clarice couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. Whether they liked it or not, she felt that they needed Graham on this one. Of course, that would only happen if Crawford agreed to Graham’s terms and, not knowing what those terms were, Clarice did worry an agreement wouldn’t be met.


	6. Sphinginae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day guys! A huge thank you again to everyone reading this so far. I wanted to add that I'm technically almost done writing all this (just gotta do a lot of spelling and grammar fixes) and it's going to be 11 instead of 12 chapters. Also Lloyd Bowman is a name dropped from Red Dragon.
> 
> Again, thank you guys so much for reading this. It means a lot and I hope you enjoy this next chapter :)

It was early in the morning when Catherine Martin finally arrived home. As she walked to her apartment door with bags filling her hands, her eyes fell upon a man attempting to get an armchair into his truck. However, he seemed in horrible pain and the caste on his arm wasn’t exactly helping him.

Catherine glanced up at her window and her meowing cat but her gaze broke as she heard another strangled yelp. It was just too sad she finally decided. Besides, the man was older and seemed pretty weak. With a sigh, Catherine set her bags back down and walked over.

“Hey, could you use some help?”

“Oh would you? I managed it this far but…well.”

“It’s no problem,” Catherine assured him.

“Thanks. If you could just get it into the van I think I can use the edge to leverage it on up.”

Catherine gave the man a reassuring smile. “Sure thing,” she said.

* * *

 

Will had fallen asleep in the Montana home again. Sometimes he waded through memories or fantasies of his own construction before lying in that bed. Every time he woke up he was back in the prison though.

He forced himself up with a sigh. A day had passed before any word from Clarice or the FBI. She would come again, Will didn’t doubt that, but what he needed was Jack. The man would come eventually, he wouldn’t have another choice. But that didn’t mean the waiting wasn’t killing him.

Will got his bland breakfast that morning and had a wonderful conversation with Barney but other than that, it looked like it would be an incredibly dull day. Will was content in spending that time in his head but a voice brought him out of it, one that had Will breathing a sigh of relief. He slipped off the bed and walked up to the bars.

“Jack, you’re looking well.”

The man didn’t say anything, not at first. For a moment, the two just stared at each other, studying the differences, what had and hadn’t changed.

Will spoke again when Jack remained silent. “You didn’t return any of my letters.”

“Didn’t feel there was a need,” sighed Jack.

“Well, I’m glad to see you finally came. Though I’m sure it’s less to do with my letters than Clarice and Buffalo Bill,” sniffed Will. “Still, if it got you here then I guess I should be thanking—”

“What do you want Will?”

Will rolled his eyes. “It’s a good thing I’m not Hannibal, you know. He would have found that incredibly rude.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to know where she is,” Will sighed. “I want to see the truth in your eyes as you tell me she’s alive.”

“Who?” asked Jack.

“Abigail.”

Will watched carefully but Jack’s face gave nothing away.

“She’s dead Will.”

“She’s not, and I want to know where she is.”

Jack shook his head though. “You’ve lost it.” He started to turn and walk away but Will wouldn’t have that.

“I know she’s alive Jack! You can’t stop denying it.”

“Denying it? You were at her funeral Will!”

“So? It wasn’t her body in the coffin,” he hissed. He paused so that he could reign himself in before he quickly continued. “You know, I saw her autopsy. I imagined being Zeller or Price, cutting her up, stitching her back together. I imagined her drowning in blood and I saw her dead eyes. And after that I couldn’t let go.” His speech started to speed up again, emotion filling his voice once more. “I took her everywhere. It went on until Florence, until I forgave Hannibal and I let her go. I laid her to rest Jack, for _years_ , only to find out she’s been alive this whole time and I will not let you just walk away!”

Jack simply stared at him. “She’s dead Will. I suggest you take this up with your therapist.”

“If you don’t tell me where she is I won’t help you Jack! More girls will die, more bodies to keep you awake at night. I won’t help you for anything else,” hissed Will.

“Goodbye.”

Will hit the bars in front of him hard. He couldn’t help it. He was angry. Jack was walking away and there was nothing he could do.

“You’ll come back,” whispered Will. “You have too. You won’t have another choice.”

Yes, he just had to hold onto that knowledge. Maybe not the next girl or the next, but Jack would eventually have to look to him for help. Will would find out where Abigail was and Jack would tell him. It was the whole reason he was here, why they were doing this. Torturing Jack wouldn’t have done anything. He would have died with the information and it wasn’t like they could just hack into the FBI database. Jack would be more willing this way, to make a trade when he finally couldn’t stand another corpse.

Sitting on the ground and leaning against the cool brick, Will was almost tempted to pull forth Abigail, to see her sitting there with him, almost like they had in Hannibal’s kitchen or in Florence.

He couldn’t bring himself to do so though. He wanted the next time he saw Abigail to be the real her, breathing and alive.

He forced the want of having her there with him back down as Barney came down the hall.

“Do you need to be sedated Mr. Graham?”

“No, I’m fine Barney. Sorry for the outburst,” murmured Will. He rubbed at his eyes but noted that the man still stayed. Will allowed himself to smile softly and asked, “Do you want to hear about her?”

Whether Barney actually knew what he was talking about didn’t really matter. The man just said, “Sure. What’s her name?”

“Abigail.”

* * *

 

Clarice had at least gotten some proper time to sleep that night, even if she still woke up in the middle of the night because of the lambs. At least it was a solid eight hours total seeing as Brian Zeller was helping with a case on the other side of the country. Jimmy promised to come grab her the that morning so Clarice took her time as Ardelia grilled her on what was going on.

“So you’re like, officially involved with the Buffalo Bill case now, right?”

“I suppose. I can’t exactly tell you about an ongoing case though.”

“I know,” sighed Ardelia, “but what about Graham? Did his words actually mean anything?”

“Yeah, apparently Dr. Lecter knew Buffalo Bill, at least in some form or another.”

“Wait, are you kidding me? What, is there just some psychos club the FBI doesn’t know about?”

Clarice snorted. “I wish. It would certainly make catching this one easier.”

“So, are you still getting dragged along or are you actually coming to class today?” asked Ardelia.

“Permission to be out of class again. Jimmy’s coming to grab me and then we’re supposed to…well figure out something. Sorry.”

“Still can’t go into much detail?” chuckled Ardelia.

“Rather not risk it. Don’t want to give the Guru a reason to take off my head,” Clarice said. “I’ll walk down with you though. Jimmy should be down there by about now.”

“He another agent?”

“Yeah, crime scene investigator. He worked on a lot of the cases with Graham.”

“Oh, Jimmy Price, right? He’s written a bunch of essays on fingerprints and stuff.”

“Which you have clearly read from that accurate title.”

Ardelia punched her in the arm and grinned. “Hey, I had an essay due on search and seizure protocol alright? It’s the teachers’ fault if they think we can read all this.”

Clarice simply rolled her eyes and threw on her coat. Outside, Jimmy was waiting and Clarice gave a quick introduction before Ardelia hurried off to class. Clarice then kept pace with Jimmy as he handed her a coffee.

“Wasn’t sure how you liked it so I grabbed some sugar and creamer packets,” Jimmy added.

She took them with a quick thank you and pocketed them as Jimmy led her off to the labs.

“Brian’s flight lands in less than thirty minutes and going by how airports are, we probably have an hour to two before he shows up.”

Clarice chuckled and softly agreed that airports could be absolutely awful.

At the labs, Jimmy gave her a quick tour before sitting down at a slab like it was a table. Clarice poured some of the sugar and cream into her coffee as Jimmy sipped from his.

“That was your first autopsy right? With a murder victim anyways?”

Clarice nodded. “Was it that obvious?”

“Pft, you’re a trainee. It’s not uncommon for them to not have encountered a murder victim,” replied Jimmy. “You did well. Granted, that one was pretty tame all things considered.”

Clarice’s eyebrows shot up. “Tame?”

“Oh yeah. There was this one guy who had a beehive grown in him.” Jimmy gave a wistful sigh. “That was fun. I always liked bees.”

“Uh…”

“Sorry, hard to work around the dead and not get a morbid sense of humor,” chuckled Jimmy. “Brian and I actually met the woman who did it, Katherine Pimms. Man she was creepy.”

“What’s been your favorite crime to work on?” asked Clarice.

“Interesting word choice. Most would have said that kind of language is wrong since we are dealing with lost lives and all that.”

“Still, it’s a job,” Clarice admitted, “and some people have chosen to do it because they honestly enjoy it. Besides, you strike me as someone who would have a favorite.”

Jimmy grinned at that and the minutes that passed seemed to go fairly quickly as Jimmy told her all sorts of stories. The ones involving Beverly Katz carried a hint of sadness with them but it seemed yesterday’s rant had helped the man quite a bit. His shoulders didn’t become so weighted with sorrow and his face managed to stay rather cheery.

Those eyes lit up even further and when Clarice turned around, she saw why.

“Brian! How was the flight?”

The younger man simply let out a groan as he dropped a suitcase on the floor. “I haven’t even had the chance to go home and already Jack is dragging me onto another case.”

“I’ll make sure to set up a slab for you,” Jimmy chuckled.

“And yet you didn’t get me coffee.”

“Oh hush. I think you’ll at least enjoy this one,” smirked Jimmy. He held up the container with the cocoon in it. “We need this identified.”

Despite the bags still under the man’s eyes, he perked up at the sight and quickly took it from Jimmy’s hands. Looking it over, he asked, “Where’d it come from?”

“The latest victim’s throat,” Clarice quickly said.

Brian frowned, finally looking at her. “I’ve seen you before…”

“We ran into each other in Agent Crawford’s office,” she replied.

“Oh, right. Carol…”

“Clarice actually. Clarice Starling,” she said, shaking his hand.

He seemed to take note of her own eye bags and muttered, “Glad to see I’m not the only one being tortured by Jack. Now, let’s see what this beauty is.”

Walking off to a desk, he pulled out some tools as Jimmy and Clarice followed.

It didn’t take long for Brian to open it up and they all gazed down at the little white skull. Brian muttered a few words and then quickly pushed his chair to a computer. He booted it up and typed in a few things before letting out a triumphant shout. “The death’s-head hawkmoth! This one is specifically _Acherontia styx_.”

“Are they common?” asked Clarice.

Brian shook his head. “Not here. They come all the way from Asia.”

“Someone would have had it imported then,” replied Jimmy.

“Oh for sure. Someone fed this little guy honey and nightshade, kept him warm. Someone took care of him,” Brian replied.

“I’ll get Bowman to see what companies will import these guys and see if we can get a list of buyers,” Jimmy said.

“I’ll tell Crawford about what we found,” Clarice quickly added, wanting to at least seem useful.

Brian quickly let out a mournful sigh though. “Don’t tell me this is it! Isn’t there a body?”

“Clarice and I already took care of it,” grinned Jimmy.

“I could be asleep right now,” groaned Brian as his head fell back.

Jimmy just laughed and slapped him on the back. “I’ll make sure I grab you a coffee after I talk to Bowman.”

“Make sure you mix it with Red Bull,” muttered Brian.

Jimmy promised to do just that as Clarice quickly walked off and pulled out her phone. She dialed up Crawford and quickly told them what they had found. When she told him who Jimmy was going to talk to, Crawford made a gruff sound of approval.

“Lloyd Bowman should be able to find something. He always does,” Crawford sighed. “Now, go see if Zeller or Price need you for anything. If not, you’re dismissed to class.”

“Thank you sir.”

Clarice hung up and double checked with Brian but he quickly waved her off.

“Naw, if we need you I’ll have Jimmy or someone run over,” Brian mumbled. “Nice meeting ya’.”

“You too.”

Clarice then ran off to find Ardelia and her current class.


	7. Acherontia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you again! I don't think I could say it enough <3
> 
> I also wanted to ask again if anyone is curious in a sequel to this, particularly with adapting some pieces from Hannibal Rising and exploring a Fullerverse version of Hannibal's past.

Clarice had just finished shooting practice and now had a break for lunch. She was headed out with Ardelia and a few others from class when she noted a TV turned all the way up and people crowded around it. Clarice paused in her step and listened to what the news anchor had to say.

“In what’s become a sort of grim marker, the blouse of Catherine Martin has been found cut up the back. The blouse was discovered early this morning and Catherine was announced missing some time after. It is currently believed that her kidnapper is the notorious Buffalo Bill. At this time, we have Catherine’s mother, Senator Martin, here to say a few words.”

Clarice stood there watching, the woman’s words washing over her like a bucket of ice.

“Oh that is good,” murmured Ardelia, commenting on the woman’s words.

“She’s trying to make him see Catherine as a person,” Clarice agreed softly.

“You think it’ll work?”

Clarice swallowed uneasily. “No.”

* * *

 

Will was absently looking through his mail. Though he never accepted offers for interviews or answered the intricate psychoanalytical questions posed his way, he sometimes enjoyed slipping into Hannibal’s skin, imagining how he would truly answer and then how he would lie, simply to mess with the lesser minds. He wasn’t in the mood today though and simply threw each one to the side after reading the sender’s address.

The most annoying ones were the groupies, fans, lonely hearts. They all acted like they somehow understood him, like they were friends. It was stomach turning how horribly wrong they were.

He sometimes wondered if Alana would ever write, if he’d ever get something from Molly, but so far nothing. He had of course gotten plenty of requests from Freddie Lounds but he had no interest in what she had to give.

That meant another boring day ahead of him as he counted down the minutes until another dull dinner. However, things started to look up when Will looked between the bars at the old friend.

“Two visits in one day Jack? I feel honored.” Jack clearly wasn’t amused and Will knew exactly why he was there. “So who was it? Some celebrity’s girl?”

“Senator Martin’s of Tennessee,” Jack replied, his anger and helplessness just barely detectable.

“A politician’s? Even worse,” sighed Will.

He watched a nerve tick in Jack’s forehead.

“How did you know?” Jack asked quietly.

Will knew they weren’t talking about Martin or her daughter anymore. “Zeller, actually. Seems that it’s fairly easy to guilt trip someone who ousted me to Freddie Lounds and honestly thought I was the Chesapeake Ripper. He didn’t give me any details, not that he knew anything else. He simply told me he’d been asked to sign off on a fake autopsy report and she was placed into protective custody.”

“When.”

“After I came back for the Red Dragon case.”

Jack nodded as he rubbed his chin.

“Why didn’t she speak during Hannibal’s trial?” asked Will. “Not that you exactly needed more evidence but still, I’m surprised you didn’t play all your cards Jack. You even forced Miriam onto the stand. Why not her?”

“She refused to say anything that might incriminate him,” muttered Jack.

Will smiled. “Good girl.”

Jack let out a soft sigh though it didn’t seem to help the stiffness in his shoulders. “Well you know now. So will you help?”

“Where is she?” Will pressed.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why? Why protect her?” he asked, slowly approaching the bars. “You never believed her. You thought she was a suspect the moment your eyes fell on her so why the _hell_ are you trying to protect her now?”

“Whatever she did, she’s a very sick, young woman,” murmured Jack. “She needs help.”

“She needs her parents.”

“You are _not_ her father!” Jack barked out, finally raising his voice.

“Who else does she have Jack? Doctors and nurses? Where the hell do you have her locked away?!” At Jack’s silence, Will managed to push down his fire and murmured, “If you don’t tell me, Senator Martin’s daughter is going to die and this case is going to be ripped from your hands. Your career will be tarnished by the girl’s death and so will whoever takes it after you as girls keep dying.”

“You’d go that far? You’re not going to see her Will.”

“Just tell me.”

“Ohio.”

Will hit the bars hard, the metal ringing in the cell. “Don’t lie to me.”

Silence stretched between them but Will’s heart finally evened out. He had him. Jack would give up the information. He didn’t have a choice.

“She’s in a mental institution in Arizona,” Jack finally said. “But that’s all I’m going to say.”

Will watched his face carefully but finally nodded. It was still rather broad information but at least Will knew it was the truth. They would find her. “That wasn’t so hard was it,” murmured Will. “Now, give me the file Jack and I’ll tell you what I think.”

Jack placed the thick folder down and Will took it up.

“This is going to take some time,” Will murmured as he flipped through the pages, taking quick glances at titles and pictures. Glancing up, he noted Jack’s narrowed gaze and Will couldn’t help but smile at it. “I’m not messing with you Jack. It’s going to be more difficult not being at the crime scenes.”

Jack simply made a gruff noise. “If you are, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in a place far worse than this.”

“Fair enough. I’ll get Barney to ring you when I’m done,” replied Will, his attention already completely on the file. He didn’t notice when Jack left as he walked over and sat on his bed. He began to read the reports and his eyes carefully roamed the photos.

As he slowly slipped into the skin of Buffalo Bill, Will noted how different it was from any other killer. There was no full picture. At first, Will thought it was because of how long it had been. He blinked back into reality before attempting to fall into Buffalo Bill once more.

But nothing was fitting right. There were pieces missing, parts to tight and to lose. He was itchy and uncomfortable and missing, so many pieces missing—

“This is who I am. An incomplete piece, trying to become. But become what?”

Yes, it wasn’t that he couldn’t form the full picture, it was that there was no full picture. There was no identity. That was what he was trying to so desperately find.

The girls. The girls were helping.

He wasn’t him. So what else was there to be?

It was on the edge of his tongue, something so wonderful and awe inspiring it would shock the whole world. But no, that was Will’s thinking. Will’s ideas slipping in and trying to heighten _his_ becoming. And _his_ becoming was nothing glorious.

He was to focused on the physical, on the real. There was nothing elegant about it. It was so plain, so simple. He wasn’t comfortable in his skin so he would transfer that to the opposite of him, a large, young women to combat the built, old man.

This was _his_ design and it was as simplistic as it got.

Will jolted from the feeling and back into his own body, his whole form shaking. Some might have thought it was in horror, and that certainly would have been true earlier on in his life. Now though he shook with disgust. Buffalo Bill was nothing compared to the Red Dragon or really any other killer Will had come across. There was nothing beautiful in his design, nothing new or heightened to art.

He went back to the photo of the opened cocoon and the little white skull that showed through.

“You were so close,” murmured Will, fingers tracing the outline. “You could have been beautiful.”

There was something about the moth and Buffalo Bill that transcended everything else. It had potential to become something beautiful like Dolarhyde and Blake’s paintings. But Bill would never get that chance. After all, he was going to help Clarice catch him and he revered the young woman far more than the serial killer.

With a sigh, he stood up and went to the bars, noting the now cold mash dinner that had been left for him. He let out a high whistle, similar to how he used to call the dogs, and like a dog, Barney came hurrying down.

“Barney, could you please contact Agent Starling? I believe I’ve found some information that could help her.”

“Right away Mr. Graham.”

Will nodded his thanks as he went back to his bed and the files. His eyes roamed back to the dead girls, the corpses and the smiling faces. He did feel sorry for them to a certain extent but it wasn’t as simple as not wanting them dead.

It was easiest to compare them to the dead families, particularly the mothers, at the hands of Dolarhyde. One could argue that at least with Bill’s victims he didn’t rape them and all major lacerations or skinning came after death. But at the same time, at least the dead mothers and families had been killed for something higher than themselves. These large girls were just fodder though, their deaths made even more insignificant by the fact that Buffalo Bill would never reach his potential, certainly not like the Dragon had.

With a tired sigh, Will sat back and waited for Clarice to arrive.

* * *

 

When Clarice got the call from the Baltimore hospital, she double checked with Crawford to see if he didn’t want to go himself. However, the man was the head of the Behavioral Unit and didn’t have time to drive all the way back to Baltimore for a third time in one day.

With that in mind, Clarice quickly grabbed her coat and drove to Baltimore, managing to reach it at eight o’clock.

Graham was waiting for her, no longer in the straightjacket. She couldn’t help but nervously bounce her leg up and down, waiting for what he had to say.

“Glad to see you made it.”

“I was told you have more information?”

“To an extent,” Graham replied. “This Buffalo Bill is a tricky man. Not like what I’ve seen before. His picture is incomplete.”

“What do you mean?”

However, Graham ignored her question and asked his own. “Your picture is incomplete to. Tell me, was it your father or mother?”

“Mr. Graham?”

“Who died. I mean, we’ve already established you’re an orphan so I know both did but who did you actually grow up with? Who did you learn to love only to have them stripped away?”

“Mr. Graham, we don’t have time for—”

“No. We do and we will,” Graham responded coldly. “I don’t have to give you any of this. Now, who was it? Your mother or your father?”

Clarice swallowed uneasily. “Mr. Graham, a woman’s life is at stake.”

Graham simply walked back to his bed however and sat down, staring at the wall in front of him.

“Mr. Graham, we need whatever you have!”

Nothing.

She waited. She tried to wait it out, to beat him at his own game, but it was pointless. He didn’t care about saving Catherine Martin. He could keep his lips shut and Martin’s death wouldn’t affect him in the slightest.

“My father.”

Graham finally turned to her and smiled. “I’m assuming he was in law enforcement, correct?”

“A local police officer,” sighed Clarice.

He nodded and stood up again. Walking over he murmured, “Buffalo Bill lacks an identity. He hates himself and what he is. Through that knowledge, he’s come to the idea that he’s a transsexual but he could be far more complex if he had any vision.”

Graham paused as if he was trying to formulate his next set of words.

“How did he die?”

Clarice forced herself to breathe through her nose.

“How?”

“He was at a drugstore. Some robbers surprised him,” Clarice managed.

“Did he die right away?”

“No. No he was very strong. He lasted about a month.”

“And your age?”

“Nine.”

Graham nodded, taking in the information with a satisfied smile. He then easily fell back into the other conversation. “Buffalo Bill’s lack of self wasn’t born. It was made through years of abuse, from his father I imagine. His mother probably absent for most of his life. What about afterwards?”

“After what?”

“When your father died. Where did you go?”

“Distant relatives. They lived on a farm.”

“But you didn’t live there long.” His eyes board into her like he was staring at her soul. “Something happened, something that had you running.” His eyes suddenly closed and Clarice felt that he wasn’t Graham in that second. His ‘you’s changed to ‘I’s and his face scrunched together like he was trying not to cry. “I ran and I ran but it wasn’t far enough. I couldn’t do it. I failed. I failed…what did you fail Clarice,” Graham suddenly said, switching back to himself. “What couldn’t you save?”

“A lamb.”

“You woke up and you heard a lamb scream,” murmured Graham. “So much like a human’s. So sad and scared. Did you see it? The farmer hacking away?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t want to though. You tried not to but…you couldn’t bare the screams.” Graham looked to her and she knew the question he was asking.

“I took one. And I ran as far as I could. I thought…I just thought if I could save one…”

“But you didn’t save it, did you Clarice? You just couldn’t run far enough.”

“No.”

“Do you still hear them? No, of course you do. They are your center, your becoming,” murmured Graham.

“It’s why I wanted to go into the FBI. That and my father.”

“You think they’ll stop if you finally save just one? Is Catherine Martin your lamb?”

Clarice didn’t answer.

However, Graham didn’t press this time. He simply smiled. The fact that it was simple and kind was honestly more disturbing than if it had been twisted.

Graham finally picked up the file and placed it within Clarice’s reach. “A profile for Buffalo Bill has already been made. An older white man, likely with a house or somewhere stationary where he can do his business. Now, add this to your profile. He comes from a broken family, an only child with an incredibly abusive father. He’s moved around a great deal but still remained in this area. He’s applied to plenty of hospitals and clinics for sexual reassignment surgery but has failed the psychological requirements again and again. That’s what the skin is for. A person’s suit. He has a police record from his younger years, probably connected with violent outbursts but nothing connected to the violence of animals. He’s not a recent offender though. He’s become better at keeping himself in check with age. With this, you should be able to use that information to cross reference it with the sellers of the death’s-head hawkmoth. That is all I have.”

Clarice finally felt that she could breathe easily. It would still take time but that was far more than they had before.

She took the folder, ready to get out of there as quickly as possible. However, that want to leave made her forget the protocol. Graham was right there and he took the opportunity to suddenly grab her wrist. Her free hand went straight for her gun but the soft, hushing sound that escaped Graham’s lips had her pausing.

“It was good meeting you Clarice Starling,” Graham murmured, his hand slipping from her wrist and wrapping around her fingers. “I look forward to hearing of your career with the FBI.”

It took all of Clarice’s energy to keep her voice steady. “Thank you Mr. Graham.”

“Please, just Will is fine.”

“Thank you Will.”

Will smiled at her and finally let go. Clarice would have thought the urge to jump back would have been too much and she would have fallen to the ground. Instead, she remained standing there as she slowly retracted her hand, her heart beating at a steady pace.

“Thank you,” she repeated, just once more, as she finally turned and left the hospital.


	8. Atropos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again! I hope you enjoy :)

The morning after his final meeting with Clarice, Will requested a phone call with his lawyer. Because of Hannibal’s little stunt with the Red Dragon, the call would be videotaped so Will couldn’t mess with the pre-rung phone. But as per law, the message would not be recorded which was just fine for Will.

The lawyer that he had was a criminal lawyer in more ways than one and a very good one at that. It had been easy hiring him with money from the Lecter Estate. Of course, even a lawyer as dirty as he was, the man didn’t know what Will was about to do which was just as well.

Upon answering, Will said, “I think I’d like to make arrangements for a window with a view.” It was a code that they had set up before the trial had finished. Will hadn’t used it before. There had been no need. But now the lawyer simply replied, “Patching you through Mr. Graham.”

Breaking out of prison was so much easier when one had money.

“Thank you,” he replied. He waited for the call to connect.

Chiyoh answered right away. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yes. She’s in a mental hospital in Arizona.”

“I will tell Hannibal. And yourself?”

“I think I’m about done with this place.” Will grinned. “The food is horrid.”

“I’m sure Hannibal will only be too happy sating your palate,” she replied evenly. “I will see you tonight Will.”

“Until then Chiyoh. Bye.”

“Good bye.”

Will hung up, unable to keep the satisfied smile from his lips. He had originally wondered if Chiyoh would continue to help them in their search for Abigail but her response on one of those evenings in Montana had washed away any of Will’s doubts.

“I will always protect Hannibal. That includes his heart.”

Will had never felt prouder than in that moment.

* * *

 

Clarice had gotten back to Quantico without incident, going to see Jimmy Price right away. He ended up getting Bowman down there before Clarice started to pass over the information which the man would hopefully be able to use to narrow down a suspect. However, all silently knew that it could be to late for Catherine Martin by the time they got there.

The file was meant to be given to Crawford but seeing as the man wasn’t there by the time Clarice got back, she took it to the dorms instead and started to go through it once more.

The information that Mr. Graham-Will-had given her was useful but Clarice couldn’t rest knowing that Catherine Martin wouldn’t be saved by it.

Clarice of course couldn’t stay awake all night and she eventually passed out, the lambs only briefly appearing before the sun was waking her up again. She still had time before class so she quickly got dressed in a fresh pair of clothes and went to find Crawford. She had scanned the file the entire night and had found nothing new. Her heart sank, knowing Catherine wouldn’t make it but she forced her head high and her shoulders back as she headed towards Crawford’s office.

However, she was quickly redirected towards the labs. There, she did find Crawford but she didn’t allow her presence to be known as she heard his voice echoing into the hallway.

The shouting put her on edge as she just barely glimpsed Brian’s downturned head. He looked utterly pale and his hands were slightly shaking.

“Shit, I had hoped he’d be done by now.”

Clarice turned around to see Jimmy behind her, holding two cups of coffee. “What’s happened?”

“Brian…he…well…I probably shouldn’t tell you but it’s kind of pointless now. Brian broke protocol and told Will that Abigail Hobbs was alive.”

“What…”

“Jack put her into protective custody when Hannibal was on the loose.”

“But what about the three years when he was incarcerated?” asked Clarice.

“Well, her father’s crimes still made her a target to some and she was determined mentally unstable so Jack kept her there,” sighed Jimmy. He glanced back towards the shouting Jack and then back to her. “Is that the Buffalo Bill file?”

“Yep.”

“How about we look it over again and give them some more time,” suggested Jimmy.

Clarice looked over uncertainly, seeing Brian’s downturned face.

Jimmy added, “Us going in now certainly won’t help. Besides, I’ll make sure to get him ice cream and wrap him in a blanket later. Come on. I know a meeting room we can use.”

They headed off and Jimmy handed over the spare coffee. They talked over the file, going back and forth when Jimmy finally pulled out a map. The places where the victims had been found were marked over it, along with some writing Clarice didn’t recognize.

“Did Graham write this?” asked Jimmy.

She didn’t remember seeing that before and quickly read it out loud. “He’s getting better at his work so why grow lazy about weighing the girls down only after the first one? What makes her so special?”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jimmy said as he looked over it carefully. “What do you think it means?”

“Not sure,” Clarice replied. However, her mind was already thinking through it. Thanks to Will’s information, Clarice felt she understood Buffalo Bill better than before. The girls weren’t special to him. If it really wasn’t just trophies but he was actually making a person suit, then why did he give special attention to the first girl? She should have been as much a tool as all the others. Besides, they already knew she hadn’t been his first kill so why…

“She was the third one found,” murmured Clarice. “Why would he not want her found right away?”

“That’s assuming he wanted any of the bodies found,” Jimmy replied.

Clarice shook her head though. “It’s not that he doesn’t want them found. He’s just sure of himself. He doesn’t think he’ll be so easily caught. He doesn’t care if we find the girls.”

“Then why weigh down the first one?”

She was silent for a moment, trying to process it. He had stopped weighing the other girls down not because he got lazy but because he didn’t care with them. But he cared with the first. He didn’t want her found.

“Danger,” murmured Clarice. “Having the first victim found puts him in danger. Makes him vulnerable.”

“So there must be something she could have told us about Buffalo Bill,” Jimmy replied.

“Told us…she could have told us about Buffalo Bill…” Clarice held onto that idea. “How could she have told us? If she’d been thrown away like the other girls, the water still would have destroyed the evidence so it’s not that. Her corpse…her corpse can’t speak but she…the person could. She could tell us something because she…knew him-he knew her! Jimmy, he knew her!”

Clarice jumped up to get ready. “Get that file to Crawford now. I have to go see Fredericka’s father!”

Jimmy grabbed hold of her before she could run out of the room though. “Be careful, alright?”

“I’m not just going to run into Buffalo Bill,” snorted Clarice. “But don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

She then hurried to her car, sending Crawford a text to explain what she’d discovered. It read: _I’m going to her parents now_.

 _Good work Starling. Keep me updated_ , was Crawford’s replied.

 _Understood_ , she sent back as she started her car and hurried off.

* * *

 

When Barney brought Will his food, he asked, “Are you off tonight Barney?”

“Yes Mr. Graham. And tomorrow.”

Will smiled at that. Good, he didn’t want Barney getting hurt or killed. “I suppose I’ll see you in a few days then.”

Barney nodded in agreement and Will watched him leave for the last time.

* * *

 

Clarice drove all the way to the first victim’s home, her mind trying to figure out how Buffalo Bill might know Fredericka. She talked to the father some but not having a description or name made it incredibly difficult. She eventually ended up in the girl’s room, exactly how she had left it.

She was thorough in her search, checking places that the average male cop probably wouldn’t think of. However, there seemed to be nothing there until the pet cat drew her attention away and into a side room off of Fredericka’s.

It was a sewing room and looked as dusty as the dead girl’s bedroom. Clarice carefully walked around, trying to see if there was anything useful when her eyes fell on sections of cut out fabric. The connection didn’t come to her right away as her hands moved over the fabric and rubbed at its edges.

When it did, it came in flashes of crime scene photographs, the cuts vividly standing out. She lunged for a sewing book and quickly flipped through, her mind connecting certain cuts with different girls. Will had already suggested Buffalo Bill was creating a person suit but this was completely different.

The cuts were precise and accurate. Buffalo Bill knew how to sew and so did his first victim. It was something to latch onto and Clarice quickly went back to the father, asking him about Fredericka’s work and if she ever sewed with anyone.

Of course, Clarice didn’t get a golden answer and she found herself spending that afternoon driving around the area, talking to all she could. One person led to another and she basically kept going, some threads leading to dead ends while others went on and on. She didn’t stop though, knowing that time was of the essence if she was to save Catherine Martin.

It was getting late when she finally got a new name to investigate. Apparently a Mrs. Littman had taught Fredericka how to sew. Fredericka had done a bunch of jobs for her in the past though she had passed away not too long ago.

The fact that the woman was already dead made Clarice frown but it was better than nothing. It was already dark outside and the drive to the old woman’s home was a ways off. However, Clarice decided that anyone’s discomfort at being called at night would be easily dealt with if Clarice managed to get closer to Catherine.

With that decided, she went back to the car and drove to the address given to her on a lonely back country road.


	9. Styx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the feedback! We're finally coming to the end and I really can't thank you all enough! Hope you enjoy it to the end :)

Will rested his eyes rather than eating dinner. That night, as some lights dimmed or were turned off, Will sat up and took a deep breath. Suddenly with freedom right there, Will realized just how uncomfortable and awful the uniforms were, how all the smells had stopped being distinct and had fallen into a horrid mesh.

As the minutes slowly passed, he murmured, “Come now Chiyoh. Don’t be late.”

However, when the dim lights of the hall suddenly went off and emergency lights came on, Will couldn’t help but smile.

* * *

 

Clarice got to the house rather late so it wasn’t surprising that there seemed to be no lights on. However, it at least looked like someone did live there. She turned off her car and quickly walked up to the door. She rang the doorbell and bounced her foot as she waited for someone to answer the door. She knew it was late so it would take some time but she needed to know if this lead would get her anything.

If there was nothing for her here, she would just have to keep going through the night. She couldn’t sleep knowing Catherine was still out there.

She rang the doorbell again for good measure.

And then again.

And finally the door opened.

* * *

 

All automatic doors were locked in case of a power failure and would have to be unlocked manually. However, Will knew Chiyoh wouldn’t have a problem with that. The idea that Will would have ever been moved from the hospital was doubtful so they had planned the entire escape on the knowledge Chiyoh had gathered about the place over the past few months.

Will imagined how Chiyoh would come in, the orderlies that she’d easily dispatch, the men she would sneak by.

Freedom.

He was almost there.

* * *

 

“I’m sorry about the time. I’m Clarice Starling with the FBI,” she said, raising the temporary badge for the man to see. Already her mind immediately noted the man’s height and muscle. He was white, older. However, she pushed those thoughts back as she asked, “Did a Mrs. Littman used to live here?”

“Uh…yeah but she don’t live here anymore.”

“I know sir. I’m looking into people who knew one of her employees, Fredericka Bimmel. Did you know her?” asked Clarice.

“Sorry. I can’t say I did,” the man replied as he tried to close the door.

Clarice managed to shove a foot in before he could though. “Please sir, this is incredibly important. Do you maybe have any of her belongs? Business records, anything like that?”

“No I don’t think…” he paused and a thought seemed to come to him. The change in his face wasn’t entirely welcomed though Clarice managed to not move a muscle. “I should have her son’s phone number though. You mind coming in while I find it?”

“Not at all sir,” Clarice replied as the man opened the door farther and she walked in.

* * *

 

Will didn’t hear any gunfire, no shouts or screams. That wasn’t how Chiyoh would do it. She would have created a diversion on the other side of the hospital, something that would drag everyone’s attention away. The few that remained she would easily take down though Will didn’t know if she’d choose lethal or non lethal ways.

By now she should have been through the main area and set up her diversion. She would be heading down towards Will’s floor. Any time now.

* * *

 

Clarice looked around at the opening hall and living room. Things were scattered everywhere. Boxes half filled and sewing equipment spilling over everything.

“When did you move in?” asked Clarice, just barely hiding the hitch in her voice.

“Uh, just little while ago,” the man replied from another room. He was still within sight though, flipping through cards. “So is this about that killer or something? The girl’s name you said, she was a victim right?”

“Yes sir.”

“You got a description or a name or anything?”

“Not at the moment,” Clarice replied, her voice just barely above a whisper. Movement caused her eyes to glance over where she saw an insect flutter over some spools of thread. A small moth. A moth with a little white skull on its head.

* * *

 

Will looked at Chiyoh for the first time in a year.

“You look well.”

“You do not.”

“Well I’ve looked worse.”

“That is true,” Chiyoh agreed, her lips quirking upwards in the barest hint of a smile. She brought out some keys and quickly unlocked the door. “We won’t need to worry about the power coming back on but we should still hurry before someone decides to check in on the patients.”

Will nodded in agreement as he finally walked out of his cell without handcuffs. With any luck, Will planned it to be the last time he ever spent his life in a damn hospital or cell.

* * *

 

Clarice slowly undid the button on her holster.

“Think the police are close though?” asked the man.

“Hard to say,” murmured Clarice.

The man pulled out a card. “Here you go.”

He didn’t make a move to come closer.

“I left my phone in the car. Mind if I use yours?” asked Clarice.

“Sure. Sure you can use my phone,” the man replied with a half laugh.

“Freeze! Don’t move!”

Clarice fumbled but managed to get her gun out. However, he had run off before she could pull the trigger. She hurried after him, lungs heaving, body trembling. She made sure to check her corners as she went through the basement door that Buffalo Bill ran down.

As she continued to move slowly, checking rooms and closing doors, her eyes lightened on the sewn together skin. Her stomach heaved but she forced her legs to keep moving as she headed towards the sounds of a woman yelling and a dog barking.

* * *

 

Will followed Chiyoh through the building just as an orderly came around the corner. Will was the closer one and even in the red lighting he recognized the man. He had been one of the ones who’d beaten him over the head after his stunt with Miggs.

He didn’t hesitate in grabbing him by his neck and slamming his head against the wall. This time he didn’t stop himself, doing it several more times until there was a nice red circle on the white tile and the man’s body fell lifelessly to the floor.

“That was a bit much.” Chiyoh commented evenly.

Will simply gave the man a distasteful gaze. “He was an asshole. Come on.”

They continued through the hospital and towards their planned exit.

* * *

 

When Clarice got closer to the noise, she found a pit and looked into it to find Catherine Martin.

“Catherine, I’m with the FBI. You’re safe now.”

The woman started yelling to be let out, for her to come down and get her out of there, and all Clarice wanted to do was to help. But Buffalo Bill was still there and she forced herself to yell at the woman to shut up as she said she’d be right back.

Catherine screamed for her not to go but Clarice didn’t really have a choice. She continued forward and into more rooms of horror when the lights suddenly went out.

She was trembling even more now as she held her gun close to her and then pointed it outwards. She could barely stand as she moved through the basement, falling several times in the pitch black. Her ears strained for any noise.

Clarice couldn’t die here. She couldn’t let Catherine die here.

She looked all around, not that it mattered, as one hand remained outstretched and reaching. Behind her, a gun was cocked.

* * *

 

Will let out a soft groan. Chiyoh simply raised an eyebrow as she handed him a pair of jeans and a shirt.

“Come on,” muttered Will as he quickly removed the jumpsuit though he kept the underclothes on. “Motorcycles are horribly unsafe.”

“Only if you don’t know how to ride one.”

“Well I don’t,” Will replied.

“It’s easier to hide than a car or truck,” Chiyoh said as she picked up two helmets.

Will left the jumpsuit on the pavement, not caring if anyone found it. He took the helmet that Chiyoh offered him as he shook his head again. However, he only made a slight noise of displeasure as he got on behind Chiyoh and felt the engine start beneath them.

He tightened his grip at first only to have Chiyoh’s fingers carefully pulling at his hands. “Not that tight.”

“Sorry,” Will said, easing his grip a bit more as Chiyoh kicked the stand back in. The first few moments were utterly terrifying but at feeling the wind whipping by him and being able to breathe in scents other than that awful hospital, he couldn’t help but let out a cry of joy.

* * *

 

Clarice fired again and again until she was all out. One bullet had broken through a covered window and though it wasn’t much, it was enough for Clarice to just barely make out Buffalo Bill lying on the floor. Her fingers trembled as she managed to get a new clip into her gun but by the time she succeeded, Buffalo Bill had breathed his last breath.

As her eyes adjusted to the slight bit of moonlight entering the room, she noted how the blood looked black.

Still trembling, Clarice managed to stand up but despite the dead body, she couldn’t bring herself to put away her gun. She couldn’t put it away until she called up Crawford, until police and FBI agents were swarming the place, until she saw Catherine wrapped in a shock blanket, still unwilling to let go of the dog and being guided by a woman in uniform, not until she saw Crawford walk towards her and shield her from the flashing lights of the press that had somehow heard word of Buffalo Bill’s death.

Clarice shuttered in Crawford’s arms, an utter calm finally filling her so much that she nearly felt like crying. However, she couldn’t find true relief when she noted Crawford taking a call. The look on his face told Clarice all she needed to know but she asked anyways.

 “What happened?”

“Three dead and eight injured at the Baltimore hospital. Will Graham is gone.”

Clarice didn’t say a thing. She looked inside herself and a part of her was horrified as she thought of the victims. But looking at Will, she couldn’t feel surprise or even disgust at what he’d done. He was following his nature.

It was a nature that Clarice would be charged with hunting down. She couldn’t make acceptations for anyone. And yet some horrid part of her was happy he was free.


	10. Lachesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter and then it'll be done! I still can't believe how much people are enjoying this. It's good to know the Hannibal fandom is still kicking and I'm so happy you enjoyed. Thanks for reading :)

“Alright, the motorcycle wasn’t that bad but I am much happier with this,” chuckled Will.

Chiyoh had offered to drive but Will couldn’t give up control that easily. Not after being locked away for so long. They had ditched the motorcycle a little while back and had gotten Will some proper shoes, a jacket, and a hat as well. There had been time to check on Buffalo Bill too and though Freddie Lounds’ article of it was rather grotesque, there was a nice little note that Will kept to memory.

Now he drove a rather plain car. They were supposed to be headed towards Arizona where they would meet with Hannibal. Only after finding Abigail again would they head out of the country. However, Will took a turn on the highway that had Chiyoh raising an eyebrow.

As the GPS yelled at him for going the wrong way, Chiyoh said the same.

“You’re heading more north than south you know.”

“Just something I need to grab before meeting with Hannibal. Don’t worry. It’ll only cost us a few hours.”

Chiyoh looked at him with a steely gaze but simply leaned back and let Will drive on.

It felt good to be behind the wheel of a car again though Will was particularly excited for getting on a boat soon. Considering how large a group they would have, it would be much easier leaving that way rather than by plane. Of course, Chiyoh wouldn’t stay with them forever. In the years that Hannibal had been incarcerated, she had been forming her own life, one which Will knew nothing about. Nevertheless, she would stick around until they got out of the US and were safely tucked away somewhere. That Will was sure of.

By lunchtime they were in Ohio and Will had accomplished the little excursion. Now he was really smiling as he rerouted them to Arizona. His happiness couldn’t even falter as Chiyoh stared at him with an unreadable expression.

“You wasted this much gas and time for a dog?”

Will replied, “Compared to what I’ve sacrificed for Hannibal, this is nothing.”

“But a dog. Really? How could you have possibly heard of this anyways?”

“Freddie Lounds mentioned her in the article. Catherine Martin wasn’t going to keep her so she got sent to the pound. It’s not to surprising though as I imagine it would be pretty triggering having your kidnapper’s and attempted murder’s dog around you constantly,” said Will. “Besides, people in general wouldn’t want the dog of Buffalo Bill in their house and those that would are probably creeps who have never owned a pet but do have rooms full of serial killer memorabilia. Neither option is fair to the dog.”

Chiyoh simply made a small, indescribable noise as her eyes turned back to the white poodle asleep on her lap. There was a cast on her right front leg but other than that she’d been thoroughly cleaned and wrapped up.

The remainder of the trip was mostly filled with absolute silence as Will kept the window rolled down, enjoying how the wind felt in his hair and the smell of fresh air filled his lungs. They could have stopped but Will had been cooped up for far to long. He drove on, only stopping once for dinner.

As the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, Chiyoh got a call which she promptly answered.

Will listened to the one-sided conversation with great interest. Finally Chiyoh glanced towards him and asked, “Would you like to talk to him?”

He knew she was talking about Hannibal. He was right there. Will just had to offer up his hand and he would hear his voice. But no, not yet. Like with fighting the temptation to conjure up Abigail, Will now pressed back the urge to rip the phone from Chiyoh’s hand. He couldn’t just stand a noise. He needed to see him again, to hold him.

“I trust whatever Hannibal has told you.”

Chiyoh simply gave a stiff nod and then finished her conversation with Hannibal. Upon ending the call, she said, “He’s already been over a few of the hospitals and is currently still working on narrowing the options. It helps that wherever she’s been placed, the FBI likely hasn’t had time to move her yet due to Buffalo Bill.”

Will nodded in agreement. “So where to now?”

“Just head towards Arizona. When we get closer, Hannibal will send us an exact address.”

“And the dog? I’m surprised you didn’t mention her.”

Chiyoh glanced over. “I may still think it a stupid idea but the look on Hannibal’s face when you show up with a dog is worth it.”

Will laughed. “I couldn’t agree more.”

From there, the night stretched on. The journey was made slightly longer by the fact that they had to stop occasionally for Precious but other than that it was smooth sailing.

Once they passed the state line into Arizona, Chiyoh texted Hannibal and then instructed Will as to where to go. It was nine in the morning and it would take two more hours before they got there.

When they did arrive, it was an old motel on the side of the highway. Hannibal had already said he wouldn’t be there and had given instructions to Chiyoh as to where the key was hidden. Going into the motel room, there was only a single bag that Will recognized as Hannibal’s.

“Hannibal says it may take as long as two more days before he gets back,” Chiyoh said. “Until then, you’re to simply lie low.”

“Chiyoh, I only just got out of prison. You can’t expect me to—”

“Your _very_ distinctive face is going to be all over the news if it isn’t already. I’m going to go get supplies and food. You stay here and take care of Precious.”

Will let out a groan.

“If you want to be put back in jail so badly, be my guest,” Chiyoh said. “But I’m not getting you out again.”

Will simply rolled his eyes and sat on the bed. “Fine. I’ll stay. At least I have TV here and can finally take a proper shower.”

“Perfect, because you desperately need one.”

“Rude,” chuckled Will. He picked up Precious and then lay back on the bed, pulling the dog into his arms while being mindful of the leg. “Hurry back.”

“See you in a few hours Will.”

* * *

 

Being in the light of day felt like a different world now, like it and the night were two different creatures. But now that Clarice was back in the day, she no longer felt like herself, not fully. It was almost like some form of transformation had occurred.

At least for a little while she didn’t have to worry about that feeling though. The moment her best friend wrapped her up in her arms she felt like she could finally breathe.

“I can’t believe you,” muttered Ardelia as she finally took a step back and hit her in the arm. “Solving your first case and not even an FBI agent!”

Clarice chuckled. “Anyone could have. It was luck that I followed the right thread.”

“But that’s just it! You were out there for _hours_ and you kept going,” Ardelia replied with a shake of her head. “You’re a hero.”

“I’m really not,” Clarice replied. Still, it was hard not to smile. Catherine Martin was alive and well. That was reason enough to be happy.

She had managed some momentary sleep on the drive back to Quantico and had finally finished telling Crawford everything he needed. Now she was back in her dorm and thankfully Ardelia could tell she was ready to pass out. Before she could finally get to her bed though, someone knocked on the door. Clarice inched towards her room and thankfully Ardelia got the message. She went over, ready to shoo whoever it was off. However, upon hearing the voice Clarice quickly walked back over.

“You idiot! You could have gotten yourself killed!” Jimmy cried as he shoved something into Clarice’s hands.

“What’s—”

“A care package courtesy of the lab,” replied Jimmy. “The fruit is from Bowman’s garden. His thank you for halting all that paperwork he had to be doing.”

Despite being tired, Clarice managed a full laugh at that. “Well, I’m glad to have helped.” She looked over at everything else in it, a mixture of candy and fruit and baked goods and veggies. “Thank you Jimmy. This is great.”

“Glad you like it.”

“How’s Brian?”

“Well, thanks to your stunt he’s gotten a bit of a break now that Jack is wrapping this Buffalo Bill mess up. Don’t worry. I’m taking good care of him,” laughed Jimmy. He then rushed forward rather suddenly, hugging her tight. Clarice felt that it was as much for her as for himself. “I really am glad you’re ok. I look forward to working with you.”

“Me too,” replied Clarice.

Jimmy smiled all the wider before finally letting go. “I’ll let you get your rest now. I know you’ll need it. See you later Clarice.”

“Bye.”

Once the door was closed, Clarice glanced over at Ardelia and couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the utterly wicked grin on her friend’s face. “No,” she simply said.

“Oh come on, from the _lab_? I’m betting nearly that whole thing is just from him,” replied Ardelia. “He is totally smitten with you.”

Clarice couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity as she moved back to her bed. “He is not.”

“Then explain _that_.”

“He’s simply nice.” At Ardelia’s still disbelieving expression, Clarice added, “And I’m one hundred percent sure he’s gay and about eighty-six percent sure he’s with his lab partner. You don’t have to worry about protecting me Ardelia.”

“Alright…I’ll somewhat trust your opinion,” Ardelia smirked. She took the basket away from Clarice. “I’ll put all this stuff away. You get some sleep now.”

“I won’t argue with that,” said Clarice.

She walked over to her bed and fell onto it fully clothed. Wrapping her arms around her pillow, Clarice let sleep take her. As she went deeper and deeper, not a single lamb was heard.

* * *

 

Chiyoh eventually came back with plenty to eat and drink, including things for the dog and more clothes for Will. However, only an hour seemed to pass before Chiyoh said she had to go again.

“Oh come on! You’re not trapping me here,” groaned Will.

“You said you trusted Hannibal, didn’t you?”

Will reluctantly nodded.

“Then you’re staying.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll stay.”

“Good. I’ll be gone for two days. Here’s a phone. Both mine and Hannibal’s numbers are programmed into it if you need us,” Chiyoh said. “You should have plenty of food.”

And with that, Will became bored to death, wondering what the hell Chiyoh and Hannibal were doing. They were supposed to be hurrying off to find Abigail before Jack moved her, right? Still, there wasn’t much Will could do and he did trust Hannibal. At the very least, his time was made a little bit more interesting when he met the owner of the rundown motel while taking Precious out.

Precious had already done her business but Will had decided to remain there, letting them both soak up the sun. The old man had approached rather slowly and, seeing as no one else was there, Will had to assume it was the owner. The man muttered, “That your dog?”

“Yes,” Will replied. “Is it a problem?”

“No. Like dogs better than humans anyways.”

Will nodded in agreement as he rubbed Precious’ stomach.

“Nasty scar you got.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. He wondered if he’d have to kill him. “You don’t recognize me?”

“Why? You been on TV?”

“A bit.”

“Don’t watch TV.”

“Newspaper?”

“Don’t like people,” the man muttered.

He was blunt in an almost rude way. Will was sure that if Hannibal had spoken to him in length it would have infuriated him but Will couldn’t help but smile. “I’m surprised you have TV and internet then.”

“Son forced me to put it in. Thought it would bring more people around. Glad it hasn’t.”

“Is he still around? Your son?”

“Died five years ago.”

Will looked at him curiously but noted there was no sadness in the man’s eyes. Either the son had died some time ago or he had never really liked him. Because of that, he didn’t offer up condolences and simply said, “You don’t seem surprised I’m here despite never seeing me before.”

“The guest said there would be others,” the man said with a little shrug.

“You don’t seem to care much about what happens around here.”

“Don’t like people,” the man simply repeated.

“Then why a motel?”

“Gotta pay for food.”

“Fair enough,” Will replied.

The next day, Will met the man again as he took Precious out. They ended up going for a walk despite the fact that neither said a single word. The old man, who never gave his name either, was a fascinating individual to watch. He was utterly complacent in his solitude having no pets and no companions. There seemed to be no great tragedy either that had made the man that way. He hadn’t given his whole life to someone and then lost them. He simply was.

The little exercise in studying the man’s psyche did keep Will’s mind occupied and his body kept busy by taking care of Precious, a full time job considering the cast still on her leg.

However, before Will could become too bored, on the third day that he was alone (a day late considering both Chiyoh’s and Hannibal’s promise), two cars pulled up to the little motel. Neither were the car that Will had driven in but upon seeing Chiyoh get out of one, Will quickly left the room. In the other, the windows were far to tinted to see inside but Will wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Hannibal get out.

Seeing him again reminded Will that a whole year had passed but he was thankful to know that his mental image of Hannibal hadn’t been wrong in the slightest.

It was tempting to run to him, to finally hold him once more, but Will attempted the more dignified approach of simply walking forward. However, Hannibal didn’t do the same, instead moving to the other side of the car and opening up the door. He offered his hand and at seeing who stepped out, Will threw away the idea of dignified and booked it across the gravel parking lot, arms wrapping around Abigail and pulling her close.

She was shaking and Will found himself doing the same thing, tears moving down his face. “You’re safe. You’re safe Abigail. You’re home.”

Abigail clung to him which was just fine as Will had no want to let her go. He managed a choked, “We were supposed to find her together,” to which Hannibal replied, “Time was of the essence and your face is very well known for the moment. I hope you forgive me.”

“Of course,” murmured Will, still holding Abigail as he felt the comfort of Hannibal’s hand on the back of his neck.

Will would have been happy simply standing there, holding her and Hannibal right beside them. His tears would have certainly kept coming to. However, that joy turned into full laughter as Hannibal said three words.

“William, what is that?”

Looking from his completely blank expression to Precious, who had somehow managed to hobble to the motel door, had Will pitching over with a full on grin.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's finally done! Again, I can't say thank you enough for everyone who has read this, left kudos and/or comments. It really means a lot and I love that people enjoyed this!
> 
> For those curious as to how this series will go (yes I'm writing more!) the next installment will be a two-parter focusing on Clarice which I should get out in two to three days. Next will be a one-shot revolving around Will's new life, then a multi-chapter adaption of Hannibal Rising, and then a nice giant, domestic epilogue to wrap everything up.
> 
> Thank you again and I hope you enjoy this last chapter of Silence!

“Clarice Starling.”

Cheers erupted around the room as Clarice walked across the stage and took her new badge, momentarily taking a picture with the director. As she walked down the stairs, she caught sight of Ardelia giving her thumbs up having already gotten her own badge. Her eyes then moved to Crawford off in the corner. Clarice smiled at him, which he returned, before turning her attention back to her class.

Not long after the ceremony ended came the party and cake as tradition demanded. Clarice spoke with Crawford for a moment, the man again stating how he looked forward to working with her and as she looked into his eyes, a thought crossed her mind. He’d been too late with Miriam and Will had failed in his attempts to join the FBI. Clarice was his first success and there was a bittersweet feeling with that as she understood what Crawford saw.

A brilliant new agent but so much lost potential. Lost friends.

He left not long after that, claiming such parties just weren’t his thing. That gave Clarice time to go to Jimmy who had come “just for her” as he claimed. Brian had followed to, calling himself Jimmy’s conscious as to how much cake was the proper amount to consume.

That got Clarice laughing just as Ardelia came by.

“Agent Starling.”

“Agent Mapp,” Clarice chuckled.

“You’ve got a call.”

“Mind keeping these two company then?”

“Not at all,” replied Ardelia.

“Thanks,” Clarice said as she walked off and towards the empty corner where the phone lay off the hook.

* * *

 

Will was leaning against the door frame, looking out at the empty beach, a good stretch of it theirs. It wasn’t Peru but Will was fairly happy with where they had settled in Argentina.

Nearly a month had passed before finally getting to such a point of peace but they had made it. Chiyoh had already left to do god knows what and now Will was left with his family.

Precious (or Penelope as Hannibal called her because Precious was a simpleton name and if he was going to have the ball of white running around he’d be damned calling her something as stupid as Precious) had finally gotten her cast off. Now she ran through the water with Abigail chasing after her, her laughter audible even from where Will stood. Hannibal watched stretched out on his chair, just far enough away so that the waves didn’t reach him as the sun set on the horizon.

“This is Agent Starling.”

Will remembered why he had hurried back up to the house. Thankfully he had double checked the graduation day for the new recruits about a week ago and had gotten the disposable phone just for that moment. Bringing the phone to his ear, Will kept his eyes on the scene in front of him as he slowly walked down the steps that led to the beach.

“Hello Clarice.”

“Will.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the way she said his name. “Don’t bother trying to trace this. I won’t stay on long enough.”

“Where are you Will?” she murmured.

“Home,” Will replied as his bare feet stepped onto the sand. “I simply wanted to give you my congratulations. I suppose Jack finally got his protégé.”

The noise that he heard had him smiling all the wider. “You’ve already thought of that,” said Will as he finally came up to Hannibal. He sat down on his lap and put an arm around Hannibal’s neck. “Don’t worry Clarice, I’m not trying to mess with you. I truly am pleased that you survived Buffalo Bill. Someone else wished to give their congratulations too.”

Hannibal took the phone from his hand. “This is Hannibal Lecter, Clarice. Will has told me a great deal about your visits. Well done on joining the FBI. We look forward to seeing your career unfold.”

Will plucked the phone back as Hannibal moved a hand underneath Will’s open shirt, fingers tracing the scar on his stomach.

“Goodbye Clarice.”

He didn’t wait to hear her answer, snapping the simple flip phone in half before placing his arms back around Hannibal’s neck.

“So,” smirked Will, “about that god awful tour guide…”

Hannibal returned the smile, before calling out, “Abigail!” As she hurried over, Hannibal asked, “What do think about going on our first hunt tonight?”

“Really?”

Hannibal nodded. “I think it will do us all some good to go out for a bit. We’ve been cooped up far too long.”

Abigail nodded adamantly as Will nuzzled against Hannibal’s cheek and chuckled, “Sounds like the perfect family outing.”


End file.
